


Reckless Endangerment

by Caedmon



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Office, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Woman, Secret Relationship, Smut, Swearing, Workplace Relationship, so much swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 104,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9339803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: Rose Tyler's smile was a drug, and he was addicted. Like any addict, he'd do anything to get his fix.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys. Big note here. Sorry. 
> 
> This story came about after people asked for a sequel to my advent story, [China Rose.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8789683) The sequel was meant to be a one-shot, but it got a little bit long. I anticipate 20-22 chapters. You may recognize bits of this first chapter from China Rose. That won't happen again. 
> 
> Betawork was done by RishiDiams and Tenroseforeverandever, but all mistakes are mine. Thank you, ladies!! 
> 
> Had it not been for the encouragement, support and enabling of the ladies of Leather Fetish (Beth51276, pls210, and RishiDiams), this story wouldn't have happened. They endured much plotting and angsting and wailing and gnashing of teeth and other -ings on the way to get this story out. So you can thank/blame them. (Particular thanks go to RishiDiams, who is responsible for the length of this fic.)
> 
> To my mind, Twelve is an amalgamation of Nine and Malcolm Tucker, so that's what I envisioned when I wrote Ian. He definitely gets his swearing from Malcolm, though. 
> 
> On a more technical note, I don't live in Britain and I'm certainly not an attorney. I did my best with what the internet could tell me. Although I took a couple of small liberties to fit my story (example: certificate day), inaccuracies are borne of ignorance and not willful. If you point them out to me, I'll do my best to fix them.
> 
> I own nothing but the mistakes. Everything goes to the BBC.
> 
> Comments and kudos feed the muse. Thank you for them.
> 
> And finally: art by RishiDiams!!  
> 

_16 December, 2016_

He sat in his office, staring at the two small boxes, trying to figure out how he found himself in this position. He had no idea what had possessed him. 

Well, that was a lie. He knew exactly what had possessed him. It was the same thing that possessed him every time he saw it. He was a powerful man, but Rose Tyler’s smile was his weakness, and he wanted to see it all the time. Preferably directed at him. That was terribly unlikely, though.

Ian Docherty was a bastard. 

That wasn’t an insult to his character, merely a descriptor. One he didn’t mind, just as he didn’t mind his nickname, ‘the Oncoming Storm’. He was well aware of the fact that he was a bastard and made no apologies for that fact. As a Queen’s Counsel to the Crown Court, a barrister and a litigator, being an arsehole was a vital part of his makeup, necessary to his career. 

But Ian had his soft spots, too. 

When he’d first heard nearly eleven months ago that Sarah Jane wanted to take on a new pupil, he’d rolled his eyes. The nine partners in the firm - three senior and six junior - had been called on to vote whether or not to bring this person in. The ‘Smith’ of Stewart, Docherty, and Smith, Sarah Jane, had a habit of taking young prospective solicitors under her wing. Though he’d always scoffed at his friend and partner, even he had to admit that she had a knack for picking out exceptionally talented solicitors-to-be. More than half had been hired on permanently by the firm at the end of their pupilage year.

Still, he had no patience for them fumbling around with wide doe eyes and searching for the spare fucking copy paper and all of the other trappings of new hires. Leave that shit to someone else, thanks ever so. 

It had been clear to Ian that Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart, the other senior partner besides himself and Sarah Jane, was in favor of hiring this Rose Tyler, and the junior partners would vote as they felt prudent, which was to say that they wouldn’t be voting against the senior partners. 

Ian had known it was a losing battle and he’d backed down into a ‘yea’ vote, but not before making his position clear: “I don’t give a fuck. Just don’t expect me to be leading this chit around by the fucking hand, alright?”

Alistair had chuckled and assured him that nobody expected any such thing, then instructed Sarah Jane to bring the girl in to meet the partners of her new workplace. 

Rose had come in, looking as shy as they all did, but absolutely gorgeous. Blonde, with a wide, lush mouth, generous curves, and topaz eyes, she’d arrested his attention from the moment he’d seen her. 

He’d shaken his head to clear it. So what? She was gorgeous, yes, but he was forty-five years old. He’d had his head turned by a woman before, more than once. 

Then she’d given the room a shy smile, and that’s when it happened. On 26 January, 2016, Rose Tyler smiled, and Ian Docherty discovered that he had a weakness big enough to drive a lorry through. 

One would think that over the course of nearly a year, an infatuation would fade away into nothing. Ian’s, however, did no such thing. 

Rose worked under Sarah Jane, so despite the fact that her cubicle was only five yards away from his office door, he never had any real reason to speak with her. She was very punctual, coming in early most days, and he always missed her in the car park. She never seemed to work on any of his cases the way past pupils had, so that wasn’t an excuse. He had run into her in the break room once or twice, but there was always a red-haired girl with her and he wasn’t able to say more than ‘hello’. 

Still, he was a barrister, a damned good one, and he had learned things about Rose Tyler. He’d learned that she’d grown up on a council estate, and had worked herself to the bone to put herself through law school. He’d learned that she liked ethnic food, particularly Italian and Indian. He’d learned that she lived alone and didn’t have a boyfriend. He’d learned that her favorite color was yellow. He’d learned that she kept herself healthy: she ran a couple times a week and she had a yoga class on Wednesday and a spin class on Saturday mornings. And he’d learned that while she wasn’t averse to the occasional night out of drinks with friends, she preferred to spend her evenings quietly, at home. 

Ian had been hoping that somewhere in everything he’d learned, he’d find something that was a complete turn-off and would put an end to this...crush he seemed to have on her. But he hadn’t. Everything he’d learned only added to his opinion that she was the ideal woman. 

Everyone else in the firm seemed to agree: _everybody_ loved Rose. She was universally adored and hailed as being kind, funny, sweet, and talented. Nothing he’d seen suggested otherwise. 

Not that any of that made a difference in the situation. She was laughably out of his league. Rose was young and beautiful; a bright spot in everyone’s day. He, meanwhile, was - well, he was _not_. He was old, crotchety, bad-tempered, and had earned his nickname. Not to mention she was his subordinate - and a pupil to boot. She wasn’t just out of his league, she was off-limits. 

But oh, how he lived for her smiles. He didn’t catch them often but when he did, they brightened him. He could live off the memory of one of her smiles for days, but like an addict, he craved more. He could never get enough. Rose Tyler’s happiness was his drug. 

When his assistant, Clara, had approached him with the idea of a staff Christmas lunch and gift exchange, he’d waved his hand dismissively. Sure. Whatever. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with assprints on the fucking copier this way. And it would be easy to make himself scarce. Brilliant.

When he’d heard that the gift exchange would be a Secret Santa and that Clara was organizing it, he was a bit more interested. Not that he’d actually put his name in a hat for something so inane, of course. He’d already be receiving a plethora of stupid gifts he never asked for: boxes of candy, coffee blends, asinine shit like that. No, ta, he wouldn’t be signing up to get more. Utterly fucking ridiculous, that.

But if _Rose_ would be participating...well, that would make things a bit different. He couldn’t outright buy her a gift for a multitude of reasons - not the least of which was that she may not appreciate a gift from him. Surely she could have any man she wanted. A besotted old barrister twenty years her senior would hold zero appeal. 

And yet...if he were to give her something under the cover of being her Secret Santa, something she really wanted, something _anonymous_ , she may smile. And even if that smile wasn’t directed _at_ him (why would she ever smile _at_ him?), it would be _for_ him. He understood the difference, and he’d have the satisfaction of knowing that he’d put it there. That he’d been able to make Rose Tyler happy. 

Close enough. He’d take it. The knowledge that he’d made her happy would be enough. 

When Clara had left the large bucket on the corner of her desk for everyone to drop their names and a short list of things they liked, he’d smirked. When she’d gone to lunch and left the bucket unguarded, he’d snuck out and pilfered Rose’s name. 

_Name: Rose Tyler_  
_Likes: I like coffee, chocolate covered cherries, comfy socks, scented lotion (no vanilla, please) and reading._

She sounded even more like the perfect woman than she had before. He detested vanilla and loved to read. He’d suspected, of course, that she was the epitome of what an ideal woman should be, but now there was _evidence_.

But those were the kinds of things one would expect to get at a holiday party. Nothing there was good enough. He wanted to make her day, her week. He wanted to _really_ make her happy. 

So he took to slinking around the bullpen outside his office often, but not so often as to arouse suspicion. He made up bullshit excuses to be there and eavesdropped on his employees, learning much more than he’d ever wanted to know about them and their lives. The red haired girl that was always around Rose had just married a little over a month ago, and her honeymoon in Majorca had been ‘magical’. Some young bloke - Adam something, he thought - enjoyed bragging about how clever he was and how attractive that was to women, though he stopped just short of talking about actual conquests. Ian desperately wanted to take the boy down a peg, but resisted. 

Finally, just as he was about to give up, he got the information he’d been angling for. 

“Of course, it’ll never happen,” Rose was saying from the other side of the cubicle wall. He waited. “I’ll never find it, and I’d never be able to afford it if I did.”

“And it’s just the butter dish you need?” came another female voice, probably the redhead.

“Yeah, and the creamer bowl. It was my grandmother’s set, but I broke the creamer bowl when I was little and the butter dish is just...gone. You know?”

“What’d it look like?”

“Oh, it was nothing special, I don’t suppose.” Rose sounded...wistful. Sad. That would never do. “The pattern is white with pink and yellow flowers on it. It’s called ‘old country roses’. Not very original, eh?”

The two women laughed, and he jotted the pattern name down on his hand as well as the required dishes, all in an unreadable shorthand in case he was stopped along the way. Then he turned on his heel and marched back to his office. 

Money was no object to Ian; his salary was quite large and he had more than enough saved up to live comfortably for the rest of his life. He could afford the dishes, whatever they cost. And it would be worth it. It would all be worth it for that smile that lit up her whole face and the knowledge that he put it there. 

So he went to his office and found the dishes online without too much trouble. They were sold by a company that specialized in replacing lost or broken pieces of china. He purchased them, paid for the expedited shipping, printed out the receipt, and sat back in his chair. She’d love it, and he would be a hero - even if nobody knew it but him.

He stared now - two weeks later and the day of the party - at the two boxes on his desk and sent up a prayer that this wouldn’t explode in his face.

~*~O~*~

Ian had originally planned to be anywhere but at the office during the Christmas party, but the memory of Rose Tyler’s smile and the knowledge that she may be wearing it today because of him was too big a lure.

Everyone in the office was visibly shocked when he put in his appearance, piling his plate with sub-par nibbles the firm had apparently paid for and doing his damndest to seem pleasant and festive by making small talk with the partners and his subordinates. He even managed to join in a conversation that Rose was a part of, though she seemed shy with him around. The knowledge frustrated him greatly. 

After an interminable amount of time, the gift exchange was announced. Clara shot him a worried look, saying she was concerned because he’d be left out, but he plastered a smile on and assured her, honestly, that he had more than enough gifts on his desk and for her not to worry about it. He did elect, though, not to join the circle of chairs that had formed, opting instead to lean against a partition across from Rose and watch the annual exchange go down. 

The gifts exchanged were the typical idiotic bullshit of the same type he was sure were resting on his desk: boxes of chocolates, mugs full of powdered hot cocoa mix, calendars, etc. There was the occasional thoughtful gift: a pair of movie tickets, a picture frame to the red-haired woman, but on the whole it was stupid shit. Typical. Predictable.

Then Rose’s bag was handed to her. Ian stiffened, his back going ramrod straight while he did his best to look unaffected. She raised and lowered the bag into her hand a couple of times and beamed, remarking on the weight. His heart pounded wildly in his ears.

Setting the gift in her lap, she pulled out the tissue paper and exclaimed, laughing. “Chocolate covered cherries!” A few of the people in the group laughed with her - Rose’s laugh was contagious - and she opened the box and popped one into her mouth, closing her eyes in bliss when she bit down. 

He clenched his fists at his sides, but made no other move. 

She reached into the bag again.

“What’s this? Looks like two boxes...” She pulled one out and popped the little strip of tape that held it closed. When it opened, she gasped. 

“What is it?” the redhead asked. 

“It’s the butter dish! The one I was telling you about! Oh, you shouldn’t have!” She threw her arms around her friend’s neck and squeezed.

“I didn’t!” she protested, puzzled, patting Rose on the back until she sat up. “Donna was my Secret Santa recipient.”

Rose cast a confused look at her, then at Donna who confirmed with a nod. Donna sat right in front of where Ian was standing, and he prayed that Rose wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t think he was that good an actor.

“What else is in it?” Rose’s friend asked, peering over the edge of the bag. “You said there were two boxes.”

Rose lay the butter dish box carefully in her lap, then reached in for the other box. Popping the tape on that one with a guarded look, she melted into tears when she saw what was inside. 

“It’s the creamer bowl! Oh, I love it so much!”

The redhead leaned to the side and threw one arm around her, giving her a hug while Rose sniffled. Then she looked up. “Which one of you did this? I can’t - which of you was it?” 

Everyone, including him, shrugged, and she looked a bit exasperated, but happy.

“Thank you so much, whoever you are. This means...this means the world to me, and I love you for it.”

Her smile was bright, the biggest he’d ever seen, and his heart stopped at her words. Maybe he should -

 _No._ She was happy, and that was all he had wanted. All he _did_ want. And he was...yes. Looking at her smile, he was happy, too. 

He hung around for the rest of the gift exchange for appearance’s sake, sneaking glances to where Rose sat, still smiling, then he slipped off as soon as he was able. 

It had gone better than he’d expected, he reflected as he left. She’d been truly delighted, and he rejoiced in the knowledge that he’d made her day. 

He’d made Rose Tyler smile. He’d done it. 

He felt like a hero and allowed himself a large, genuine smile as he turned and walked back to his office, closing the door behind him. Rose had been so happy with his gift that she’d cried. Real tears! He threaded his fingers behind his head and kicked his feet up on his desk, grinning at the ceiling. 

Clara knocked at the door and he called for her to come in, smiling at her when she did. She had been his paralegal for five years and, for the last five months, she’d also been his personal assistant. She was young, beautiful, and capable, absolutely invaluable to him, and he regarded her as something of a friend. It was very rare that he asked her for information that she didn’t either know or have right on hand, and she wasn’t afraid of his towering temper the way others were. She knew when to stay out of his way and how to let his insults roll off her back, because he never really meant them. Yes, Clara was a godsend, and he’d gladly double her salary to keep her. 

“Ian? Do you want a plate of nibbles to take home?”

He waved her off. “No, Clara, thank you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, a half smile on her lips, and stepped into his office fully. “What’s with you?”

“What do you mean, what’s with me?”

“You said thank you. You’re being…pleasant.”

“Can’t a man be in a good mood?”

She snorted. “Not _you_.”

“Why, Clara Oswald. I feel positively discriminated against.”

“Now you’re _joking_?” She crossed her arms and cocked one hip to the side. “Something’s going on.”

He rolled his eyes. “Nothing’s going on. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fine then, keep your secrets,” she said dismissively, then walked over to his desk to pick up the files he was finished with. “See if I care.”

Ian grinned at her, couldn’t help it. He was too damned pleased to do anything else. 

“That’s awfully fucking kind of you, Clara, letting me be happy.” She gave him a withering look that just made him smile brighter. 

“Ms. Smith is out of the office starting Monday. She’ll be back on January second.”

“Good for Sarah Jane.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “I’m just giving you a heads up in case she comes by and asks you to cover her cases while she’s out of town or something.”

“Duly noted. Anything else?”

“No...unless you want to tell me what has you so chipper?”

Ian waved his hand and gave her his usual dismissal. “Go away, Clara.”

She grinned mischievously and left his office, the large stack of files in one arm. Ian stared at the door for a few minutes after she left, contemplating what she’d said.

Sarah Jane was Rose’s pupil supervisor, meaning that Rose worked on her cases, and the cases that Rose had on her own were supervised by her. They were required, by nature of the pupilage, to work together closely until Rose received her practicing certificate at the end of her year as a pupil. 

But if Sarah Jane was out of town, that would leave Rose unsupervised. He didn’t think for a second that someone as talented and bright as Rose would need any real supervision, but if he could talk Sarah Jane into leaving her cases with him…

He shot from his chair and strode to Sarah Jane’s office without much more thought. As was his custom, he opened her door and went right in. 

“Ian,” Sarah Jane greeted him from behind her desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I understand you’re going out of town for the holidays.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I’m leaving tomorrow and will be gone until New Year’s Eve.”

“Who’s covering your caseload in that time?”

“Craig Owens.”

“Give it to me,” he said. “Owens is a fucking idiot. You don’t want him to bollocks something up while you’re gone.”

“I don’t think he’s going to bollocks anything up while I’m gone,” she said, a little tartly. “He is a partner in this law firm -”

“A _junior_ partner.”

“ - and he is perfectly qualified to handle whatever may arise in those two weeks.”

“Do you really want to risk it? Especially with the Orestes Milton case?” 

“There is nothing scheduled on the Milton case until February. There’s nothing scheduled on _any_ of my cases until after I get back, which is why I feel secure leaving them in Owens’ care.”

Ian ground his teeth. It was out of character for him to be asking for the cases and he knew it. Pressing the issue might make her suspicious as to his motives, and he couldn’t afford that. It could be a disaster. But - 

“Besides,” Sarah Jane interrupted his train of thought, “if I gave you my case files, I’d have to hand my pupil over to you as well, and I can’t do that. You’d scare the hell out of the poor girl, and she’d never come back.”

“I’m not _that_ bad,” he muttered, knowing it was a lie even as he said it. He _was_ that bad, if not worse.

She just burst out laughing. “You think you’re not that bad? Really, Ian? You made a judge cry!”

“That’s not...that’s not what fucking happened,” he protested feebly. It had always served his purpose for people to believe that was the case, so he’d never corrected anyone until now. He was suddenly wishing that he had. 

Sarah Jane didn’t answer, just mopped her eyes and stood, dropping files in her briefcase. “I appreciate the offer, Ian, but Owens will handle everything. He’s got instructions to call me if anything major comes up, but I’ve been planning this trip for almost a year. Nothing is going to come up.”

“I hope you’re right.” Inspiration struck him then. “Why don’t you have him let _me_ know if he has a problem, instead of bothering you on your holiday?”

She stopped what she was doing and peered at him. “Why is this so important to you?”

_Fuck. Time to backpedal._

“It’s not. I just want you to have a decent fucking holiday. Seems you deserve it, yeah?”

She didn’t look convinced, but nodded anyway. “Alright. I’ll tell him if there’s an emergency to talk to you first. Provided he isn’t terrified. But I doubt he’ll have a need to.”

“Fantastic,” he muttered. 

“Have a happy Christmas, Ian,” Sarah Jane said, and Ian recognized it for the dismissal it was.

“Happy Christmas to you, too.” He threw one hand up in farewell and walked back to his office with considerably less bounce than he’d had when he left. 

Once there, he flopped into his chair and started scheming. Try as he might, he couldn’t come up with a legitimate reason to start a conversation with Rose Tyler. But the concept of talking to her had taken root now and wouldn’t let go. 

“You alright there, boss?”

Clara startled him when she walked into his office and dropped a pile of fresh files on his desk.

“What’s this?” he asked, ignoring her question and flipping open the top file.

“It’s the Orson depositions. Thought you might like to go over them this weekend.”

“There’s nothing I’d like fucking better,” he muttered, glancing over the first page and scowling, then closing it and lying back in his chair, dragging his hands down his face. 

“Cheer up, Ian,” Clara admonished him as she walked out. “You were in a good mood twenty minutes ago. It must have been a good day until then.”

She left and Ian was left sitting in his office alone. Clara was right. It had been a very good day until he’d been denied an excuse to talk to Rose. But that wasn’t the end of the world, he decided. He’d get another chance. The universe owed him one. Something would happen that would give him the opportunity to speak with her. He had no idea what, nor what he would say when that opportunity arose, but he’d cross that bridge when he got there. 

He just needed to be patient.


	2. Chapter 2

_23 December, 2016_

“Dammit!” 

Rose slammed the heel of her hand against the wheel, cursing again before she lay her forehead against it in a slump of defeat. 

Fabulous. This was absolutely fucking fabulous. Just what she needed. 

She took a deep breath, puffing out her cheeks as she exhaled slowly, closing her eyes and counting to herself, gathering her thoughts and her strength. After four deep breaths and a count of forty, she raised her head. 

Right. Time to make a plan. 

Step one - find out what the hell was wrong.

She opened the door to the car and leaned forward to pull the lever that released the bonnet, then stepped out into the chilled air. She raised the bonnet and propped it, putting her hands on her hips to survey the engine. Nothing seemed broken or out of place, but she was forced to acknowledge that she wouldn’t really be able to recognize if something _was_ wrong. She needed Mickey for that sort of thing. 

Mickey, who was in Oxford until Boxing Day, spending the holidays with Martha. 

Fucking _fabulous_.

Seeing nothing amiss, Rose walked back around to the driver’s seat and flopped into it with a muttered prayer. She’d done nothing but look at the engine of the car, certainly nothing that would make a difference when she tried to crank it. That didn’t stop her from hoping, however, and she prayed through clenched teeth as she put her foot on the brake and turned the key. 

“C’mon...c’mon...c’mon…”

The car made a scraping, groaning sound, but didn’t catch. 

Rose let her chin sink to her chest, took a breath, then raised her head and tried again. More of the same groaning and scraping, then silence. 

She swore, spitting out the most foul words she knew.

“Problem?”

Rose jumped, and the shock brought her from being slumped in her seat to standing beside the car before she could blink. Once there, she took in the sight of Ian Docherty, Queen’s Counsel, senior law partner at Stewart, Docherty, and Smith, the prestigious law firm where she worked, and the man she'd been nursing a crush on since she started working there nearly a year ago. 

It was mad, this crush she had on him. She was so far below him that she probably didn’t blip on his radar. Why would she? She wasn’t even out of her pupilage yet and he was a QC, for heaven’s sakes. 

He had a reputation for being a difficult man, and from the shouting she heard fairly frequently while sitting in her cubicle, she suspected it to be well-deserved. Sarah Jane had warned her about him on the first day of her pupilage. She’d told Rose that Mr. Docherty was not to be crossed, to stay out of his way and she’d likely avoid the worst of his wrath, and Rose had taken that admonishment to heart. But as time went on and she saw him around the office, she became more and more sure that he wasn’t the big bad wolf he pretended to be, huffing and puffing all over the place. 

In her own defense, she had _tried_ not to have a crush on him, telling herself that it was stupid, it was pointless, he was too old for her and nothing would ever come of it, that she should date the men her own age who asked her out. Still, Rose couldn’t help herself. She didn’t believe that he truly was the monster he was made out to be, and she wanted him. She couldn’t explain it and really didn’t spend a lot of time analyzing it, either. It didn’t have to make sense to be true.

It was even more bewildering because Rose had never been one for older blokes, had always found herself attracted to what her mum called ‘pretty boys’. Mr. Docherty was certainly _not_ a pretty boy. He was tall with salt and pepper hair (quite a bit of salt, if she was being honest), and his features, while handsome, were sharp. Amy - the only person she’d confided in - thought she was barmy, and perhaps she was. The whole thing was a pipe dream, and she knew it. He’d never notice her; she’d never have him. But there was something about him...something that drew her. Perhaps it was his eyes. 

Eyes which were now peering at her with concern. Rose felt her face heat up in embarrassment.

_Oh, God, he’s said one word to me and I’m blushing. How pathetic can you get?_

She stared at him for a moment, speechless, as she so often was in his presence. He looked from her to the open bonnet of the car and back, waiting for her to speak. 

When she didn't answer, he asked again, his Scottish brogue light. “Are you alright, Miss Tyler?”

_Blimey, he knows my name. That’s twenty quid I owe Amy. And oh, God, that accent..._

“Yeah, I - I mean, yes, sir, Mr. Docherty.”

He held up a gloved hand. “Please, don't bother with that. Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Yes! Yes. I’m fine, thank you.”

He gave her a look she didn’t quite understand, then his eyes darted towards the open bonnet. “Your car is not, I take it?”

She blinked. What?

“My car? Oh! My car! Yes,” she turned around to look at the vehicle in question, suddenly remembering that she had a car and it was currently non-functional. “It seems to be...broken.”

“Anything I can help with?” he offered, taking a step forward, and her brain shorted out again. She’d never had such a long conversation with him in all the time she’d known him, and barely knew how to proceed. 

Scrambling to maintain the thread of conversation, Rose smiled and said, “No. I mean, unless you’re a mechanic and not a barrister.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Could be both, I suppose,” he commented glibly. He stepped forward and set his briefcase down, peering into the car. Something seemed to catch his eye and he tugged off his gloves, absently stuffing them into his pocket. Rose took a minute to admire his long, slender fingers. She watched him as he took in the landscape of dirty machinery under the bonnet. He looked all over the engine then reached down and jiggled a wire or two, touched one pipe and poked something else before he reached into another pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping the grease from his hands. “Unfortunately, in this case, it seems I’m just a barrister.”

Rose felt a little jolt of disappointment, sensing that his words signaled the end of their little interlude.

“Oh,” she said, then rallied. “Well, we can’t all be perfect!”

One of his eyebrows shot towards his hairline and her eyes widened in mortification. She hadn’t _really_ just said that, had she?

His lopsided grin seemed to indicate that she _had_. “No, I suppose we can’t. Can I call someone for you? A tow truck, perhaps?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah, that would be good. I don’t know who to call; my mate Mickey usually fixes my car, but he’s out of town for Christmas with his girlfriend.”

Rose noticed his eyes darken just a bit at the mention of Mickey, but they cleared by the time she finished speaking. “I happen to know someone who owns a garage. I’ll call him, he’ll be here shortly.” He pulled out his mobile and swiped the screen to unlock it. 

“Thanks so much,” she told him sincerely, expecting him to nod and walk away with the phone to his ear. He didn’t. He stood near the bonnet of the car, looking down into it and occasionally reaching out to jiggle a wire he’d apparently missed while he arranged for a tow truck to come rescue her. 

It occurred to Rose about halfway through the call that she could very easily have used her own mobile to make the call, and her face heated with the knowledge that she’d gotten so flustered she’d forgotten she even _had_ a mobile. 

“There’s that, then,” he said, pressing a button on the screen and slipping the mobile back into his pocket. “Someone will be here within fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you,” she said again. “I really appreciate this, Mr. Docherty.”

“Please, call me Ian.”

Rose blinked a little, unsure what to make of this development. _Nobody_ called him Ian, at least not that she knew of. Even the partners referred to him as Mr. Docherty, when they weren’t calling him the Oncoming Storm. Why would he offer use of his first name to her? Her, of all people?

The ability to think seemed to have deserted her, and she had to physically shake her head a little before it came back. “Right. Yes. Ian. Only if you’ll call me Rose, though.”

He smiled, and his entire face changed. It softened, brightened, and Rose thought him more handsome than she ever had before. “Rose it is, then.”

She felt herself flush and looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice. If he did, he didn’t comment. 

“So,” he started. His posture was odd, as if he were uncomfortable but trying not to be. He moved a bit, hesitated, then took a step forward and turned, leaning against the car. He struck a casual pose with his arms and ankles crossed, but Rose thought he seemed tense somehow. He seemed...nervous?

“Are you late for anything?” he asked, raising his eyebrows but not looking up at her. His eyes were fixed firmly on his shoes. 

She shook her head, even if he couldn’t see it. “No. I cancelled my plans for tonight.” _Should have never made them in the first place,_ she chided herself. “I was thinking of doing a little last-minute shopping instead, but…” She gestured back at the car and shrugged. “I still can, though. I’ll just have to hoof it.”

“No.”

Rose looked up, startled. “No?”

“No. I’ll take you.”

~*~O~*~

_What the fuck are you doing?_ he demanded of himself. _Have you lost your fucking mind?_

Rose seemed to wonder the same thing. “You - _you’ll_ take me?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” _You fucking moron! You should be sectioned for this! She’ll never agree to -_

Her smile hit him the same way it always did, making his heart beat so fast it felt like he had two. “Really?”

 _She’s smiling at you_. At you, _and she knows it’s you. Holy shit._

Ian nodded. “Yeah. Nothing better to do, was just going to go home and order delivery. No reason I shouldn’t help out a damsel in distress.”

“I’m not in distress,” she protested at once. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head towards the car he was leaning on. She rolled her eyes in response. “Okay, so maybe I’m in a spot of bother right now. Still not in _distress_.”

“Would you like me to go?” He gestured away from himself, offering to leave, and his mind screamed at him. 

_Shut up! Shut up, dammit! SHUT UP, YOU TWAT_

Rose looked alarmed for a minute then shook her head. A blush stained her cheeks and she smiled a little, not meeting his eye. “No, I don’t want that. Sorry, didn’t mean to be abrasive.”

His shoulders relaxed and he released an expansive breath. _Dodged that bullet, prat._

“You’re not abrasive. And good,” he said, smiling a little. “Might be nice to have company for dinner.”

“Oh, we’re doing dinner now too, are we?” Her tongue came out and he was helpless to do anything but watch it curl around her teeth. 

He tore his eyes away and back up to hers. “Well, we both have to eat. And it’s better than eating alone, yeah?” 

She giggled a little, then reached towards him. She seemed to think better of it, though, and brought her hand back to herself, crossing her arms. “Better with two?”

Ian nodded. “Much better.”

_Here’s your chance. Don’t fuck this up, Docherty._

The tow truck came and Ian stood off to the side, letting Rose handle everything. He’d already insulted her once by calling her a damsel in distress, he wasn’t about to do it again by acting like she needed his help. He didn’t want to offend her or do anything else that might drive her away. He’d waited too long for a chance to talk to her, to be around her. 

Now that the moment he’d been waiting for was here, however, he was assailed with doubts. It was mad, this crush he had on her. She was young - too young for him - and what on Earth could she possibly see in him, anyway? He was a grumpy old fool. What the hell was wrong with him? He was a barrister, a QC for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t be utterly besotted with this woman twenty years his junior who wasn’t even quite out of her pupilage yet. He certainly shouldn’t be offering to take her to dinner. 

And then shopping afterwards? What the actual fuck was _that_ about? Ian had no idea, really, other than he wanted to spend as much time with her as she’d allow. 

It didn’t matter if he should or shouldn’t be, he _was_ utterly besotted with her, and he didn’t even bother denying it to himself anymore. He’d tried talking himself out of it, but had given up when he realized there was no point to it. She had gotten under his skin nearly a year ago without saying a word, and talking to her this evening had only allowed her to burrow in further. 

He was fucked. So very, very fucked.

He couldn’t care less if it earned him the right to talk to her, to spend time orbiting her light and warmth.

When Rose finished speaking with the man, she turned back to Ian and gave him a bright smile, he supposed in thanks for letting her handle it.

 _Well done,_ he congratulated himself, while simultaneously willing his heart rate to slow down. 

The truck finally pulled away, Rose’s car hooked up to the back, and he was left standing in the car park with her: the two of them on their own. 

“Thanks for that,” she said, looking down at the ground. Then she gestured vaguely. “For this.”

“For what?” he asked, a bit nonplussed.

She tucked her loose hair behind her ear nervously, and he desperately wanted to do that for her. 

“For helping me out, for sticking around. You didn’t have to - you _don’t_ have to. I’ll catch a cab home, if you want.”

_Please don’t._

“No. I promised dinner and shopping, and that’s what you’ll get. Shall we?” On impulse, he offered his elbow to her. She looked at it speculatively before she slipped her hand through it, blushing a little, biting her lip. 

“Thank you,” she said again, quietly this time. 

“No need to thank me, Rose Tyler. I’m just doing what any bloke would do when they stumble upon a _damsel in distress_.” He emphasized the last three words, hoping she’d catch that he was just joking. She shot him a look, and then gave him one of her brilliant grins when she saw his lopsided one. 

“Does that make you my Prince Charming?”

He scoffed and pulled out his key fob, making his car chirp when he unlocked the doors. “Don’t know about charming; I think most of the world might disagree with that assessment. And I’m certainly no fucking prince.”

“I don’t know,” she wondered aloud, looking him over while he walked her around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door. “Seem pretty charming to me.”

With that she slid into the car, and he just stood there for a moment, dumbfounded. Once she pulled her (shapely) leg inside, he closed the door behind her and walked around to the driver’s side. 

_You must be out of your goddamn mind._

“What the fuck am I doing?” he muttered. 

_Don’t fuck this up, Docherty._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a line from a movie in here. It's not one of the most quoted lines and the movie is thirty years old, but I'm hoping someone will recognize it. One word was changed to fit the purpose of this fic. It's not a Malcolm Tucker line. 
> 
> If you catch it and can tell me the movie, you win a ficlet from me.

Ian’s car was sumptuous. The seats were a buttery-soft leather, the dashboard was a warm color, almost coppery, and there were so many dials and buttons on the console that Rose felt sure that one of them must launch the vehicle into the cosmos. And was it just her imagination, or was it bigger on the inside as well…?

It didn’t matter, really. She was too anxious to enjoy it. Until he’d offered his arm she’d never been so close to him before, and now she was in an enclosed space with him. His proximity was killing her. She kept catching whiffs of scent that she was sure came from him: sandalwood, spices, and something that reminded her of moss in a forest. She was tempted - sorely tempted - to reach her hand out and touch the hand that rested on the gearshift. She’d always done that with Mickey, years ago when they’d dated, and it seemed like a natural action. Again she looked at his long-fingered hand. She wondered... what would it be like for those fingers to thread between hers? Would they be warm, or maybe cool? Would his touch be soft? Or would he - 

_Stop it! Just stop it!_ she ordered herself when she realized how far her mind had wandered into dangerous territory. There was no way he was interested in her. He was her _boss_ , for fuck’s sake. _Get it together, Tyler!_

Her eyes snapped back to her lap, and she clasped her hands there, wringing them nervously. All she could do was thank God he wasn’t telepathic, so he had no idea she had been practically...well, she didn’t know exactly _what_ she had been practically doing, but she knew it was inappropriate. 

Ian was talking now, and she shook her head to try to clear it before she asked him to repeat what he’d said. 

“I asked where you wanted to go.”

“Oh.” She thought for a minute. “There are shops not far from my flat. You could drop me there...I could do what I need and then walk home.”

“That wouldn’t be very fucking gallant, would it? _Charming_ , as you said.” She opened her mouth to protest and he cut her off. “Besides, I already told you. I rarely have company for dinner, and never such lovely company.” Rose’s eyes widened in shock, and he darted his eyes over to her then turned back to the road. 

_If he’s determined to take you on a date, you’re going to shut right up and let him, Rose Tyler._

_This isn’t a date._

_It’s the closest thing you’ve had since your first year of law school. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with spending a pleasant evening, date or no. Haven’t you wanted this?_

She had wanted this. She really, really had.

He cleared his throat and went on. “Unless, of course, you’d _prefer_ to go home? Have some beans-on-toast, watch a bit of telly?” The words were teasing, but his tone was questioning. Almost anxious. As if he wanted...

_Get that thought right out of your head, Tyler._

She nodded to herself. If he wanted to spend the evening with her, she wasn’t about to turn that down. She was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. 

“Alright then,” she said with only a hint of a waver in her voice. “No more arguments out of me. Dinner and Christmas shopping it is.”

Ian’s face relaxed into a smile, and she felt hers do the same.

“Thank you,” he told her. 

“For what?”

“For letting me do this. I feel better knowing that you’re not walking home in the fucking cold.”

Without thinking, Rose acted on her impulse and laid her hand over his on the gearshift. She realized immediately what she’d done and gaped, horrified. Before she could pull away, however, his thumb came around to trap her fingers and keep them where they were, sparing only a glance at her shocked face. She stared at their joined hands. She was _actually_ holding hands with _Ian Docherty_. She almost didn’t believe it - until she looked up and spied him looking at her, his expression letting her know clearly that she was to leave her hand there. His blue eyes were full of something she couldn’t quite name, but she dared to think it might be longing. 

Her only response was to blush and bite her lip on a smile. Before they looked away from each other, she noted the half-grin he wore. 

_My God. Could he actually want me?_

~*~O~*~

He’d offered to take her somewhere nice for dinner, somewhere impressive. Rose had suggested a chippie instead, saying it was near the shopping area she wanted to go to. He’d counter-offered with a bistro he happened to know was in that neighborhood, but again, she wanted the chippie. He was baffled, but was willing to go along with nearly anything. Ian didn’t give a fuck where they were. He was spending time with her, and that was fantastic.

He sat across from her now, marveling at the amount of vinegar she was dousing her chips in with a slightly curled lip. That couldn’t possibly be healthy. Perhaps he’d found a flaw in her, after all. 

Just one, though.

“What plans did you cancel tonight?” he asked, tearing his eyes away. “If I may ask?”

She looked a little flustered and stabbed at the potatoes in the tray in front of her. “A date,” she said without looking up. 

He deflated a bit. A date. Of course.

“I cancelled this afternoon.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, at work. I didn’t really want to go anyway. Kinda felt obligated.”

His brows knitted in confusion and his mind reeled, trying to think of who she could be talking about. “Someone from work?” She nodded to confirm. “Why would you be obligated to go on a date with someone from work?”

Rose took another bite of her chips, chewing thoughtfully. “He’s been after me for a date for a while, but I kept telling him no. Just not interested, yeah?”

Ian nodded, his jealousy slightly mollified. “Yeah.”

“But he kept after me. Then he all but told me he’d been my Secret Santa last week at the holiday party, and I felt like I owed him.”

Red-hot anger shot through Ian’s body, and every muscle tensed. “What's his name,” he growled - a demand, not a request.

“Adam. Adam Mitchell. He works a few cubes over from mine.” 

Ian felt his body stiffen even further. That was the fucker who had been bragging about being so clever. The little shithead… Ian had kept the fact that he had purchased the creamer and butter dish for Rose an absolute secret - not even Clara knew, and she tended to know everything. His goal had been to make her happy, not score a date with her. And now this fucking twat…

Rose didn't seem to notice his turmoil and went on. “I mean, he’s a nice enough bloke, I suppose, but…”

“You’re never obligated to date someone because they buy you a gift, Rose,” he admonished, doing his best to modulate his voice. That little fucking upstart, if he ever got his hands on Adam _fucking_ Mitchell… 

He cleared his throat, attempting to clear his head as well, and went on. “A gift is meant to be just that - a gift. No expectations, no demands.”

Rose sighed. “I know. It was stupid. I guess I thought that if I went out with him once, maybe he’d leave me alone. Pretty dumb, huh?”

Ian wasn’t about to agree with her. He stabbed at his own chips. “Adam Mitchell, eh?”

She raised her eyes, looking a little alarmed. “I’m not trying to make trouble for him.”

“I’m not planning on _harming_ the boy.” _I would if I could._ “But if he is coercing other employees into dating him, that’s something I should probably know.” 

Rose looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not going to sack him?”

_Might do._

He gritted his teeth before he answered. “No. Not for this, not this time. But I _am_ going to keep an eye on him. If he does it again, he’s gone.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed, then gave him a little smile and went back to her chips. He tried to smile back, but was sure all he managed was a grimace. The idea of that twat Adam fucking Mitchell using the gift that Ian had given to try and coerce a date with Rose…he couldn’t allow himself to think on it right now. 

And the worst part of the whole thing, to his mind, was that he couldn’t even tell her that Adam had lied without telling her how he _knew_ he’d lied. His jaw clenched. Now every time Rose looked at _his_ gift, she’d be thinking of that little shitstain. 

“You’re not what people say you are,” Rose commented, breaking into his thoughts. 

A bit confused, he asked, “Excuse me?”

“People say all these things about you, tell you what to expect, but they’re wrong, aren’t they?” she clarified. 

“What did you hear? What did you expect?” He dreaded the answer. 

“Well,” she began, looking down. “You’re the big bad Oncoming Storm, aren’t you? That’s what all the legends say; the stories people have told me at work. Gruff and demanding and rude and...shouty all the time.” 

“Shouty?” he asked with a genuine quirk of his lips. “Is that even a real word?”

She ignored him. “But you’re not like that, are you? Not really.”

_I’ll be anything you want me to be._

“I am, actually,” he told her. “You kind of have to be in my line of work. I’m a right bastard.” 

“You don’t seem that way to me.” She gave him a look that was clearly assessing. “You’ve been very kind. Sweet, even.”

Ian groaned. “Don’t call me fucking _sweet_.”

She shrugged. “You have been. I don’t know another word for it.”

“Well, we’re not at work,” he pointed out. “And I couldn’t exactly turn my poor personality on a _damsel in distress_ , could I?”

She laughed and reached across the table to swat his shoulder, making him grin. 

“So go on then,” he encouraged her. “What have your coworkers been filling your head with about me?”

“I’m not inclined to believe what I hear,” she told him with the tip of her tongue curled around her teeth again. He did his best not to stare. 

“Tell you what. You tell me a...what did you call it? Legend. You tell me a legend about me and I’ll confirm whether it’s true or false.”

Rose was grinning, but disbelieving. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m perfectly serious.”

“And you’ll tell the truth?”

_I couldn’t lie to you if I tried._

“Are you implying that I’m dishonest?”

_That damnable tongue again. I’m going to have problems if she keeps doing that._

“Well, you _are_ a barrister…”

“Oi!”

She giggled and he basked in the sound - even if it was at his expense. “Sorry.”

Ian waved a hand. “It’s forgiven. And yes, I’ll be honest.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and giving her a challenging smile. “Hit me with your best shot. What’s the worst you’ve heard about me?”

“Did you really put a golf club through a window last year?”

“That’s true. I really did.” 

Rose burst into incredulous laughter. “Why?”

“I’m prone to, how you say, fits of pique.”

_You dumb fuck, you just told her you can’t control your temper! Why would she want to be around you now?_

“Only at work,” he clarified. “I’m a much more level-headed bloke when I’m not being driven to fucking madness by those twats.”

“I can certainly empathize,” she grinned, and the knowledge that she didn’t immediately want to run away from him after he revealed that made something flutter in his chest that he couldn’t quite name. It felt like hope. Possibly anticipation.

“Did you make a judge cry?”

“No, that is false. She cried, but it wasn’t because of me.”

“Do you keep a cricket bat in your office for the express purpose of intimidation?”

“Not the express purpose, no. In the topsy-turvy world of law, having a good, solid piece of wood in your hand is often helpful.” She laughed, just as he’d hoped, and he couldn’t help but grin before he went on. “I couldn’t possibly tell you why, but I think better if I have it in my hands. Intimidation is just a pleasant side effect.” He winked at her and she flushed adorably.

“Did you threaten the editor of the Mail with castration if he printed an article you didn’t approve of?”

“Yes,” he began, and Rose laughed again. He held up a hand in his own defense. “But only to protect my client! I think you’ll see where I’m coming from there…”

“I do,” she agreed, smiling brightly. “But I think I’d try to get my point across without threatening a man’s bits, personally.”

He shrugged, his lip quirked up. “Different strokes for different folks, I suppose.”

Rose laughed harder, and he couldn’t help chuckling along with her. When she calmed, she still smiled for a minute at nothing while she stirred her soda with her straw. When she spoke again, her voice was more serious. “Did you fire Diana Goddard because she brought you cold coffee?”

Damn. Diana being sacked had only happened five months ago. It was something that Rose had been there for, something she would remember. And if he wasn’t mistaken, he’d seen Diana chatting with her on occasion.

“No,” he said honestly. “I fired her for losing a case file, then lying to me about it. It had nothing to do with coffee.”

“That’s what she told everyone,” Rose informed him. 

He ground his jaw for just a second. That particular rumor had gotten back to him, too. “Well, as we’ve just established, she’s a liar.”

She used her straw to stir her drink again, looking at it thoughtfully. “Why don’t you set everyone straight?”

He shrugged. “She didn’t do any harm to my reputation by saying what she said. In fact,” he grinned, trying for levity, “she added to the legend a bit. If it makes her feel better and saves her a little face, why correct her?”

Rose shook her head, chuckling. “Only you could make a kindness out of something like that.”

“Oi, you take that back,” he protested. Rose didn’t bother, she just smiled. He gave her a lopsided grin. “Go on,” he nudged her hand on the table. “I know that’s not all you’ve heard about me...you’ve been with the firm since end of January.”

An odd look crossed her features and she peered at him a little. He realized what he’d said and what he’d given away. _Damn. She probably thinks you’re a fucking creeper._

“I had no idea you’d ever even noticed me.”

_Oh, Rose Tyler. I noticed you from your first day._

He couldn’t say that, but he found that he couldn’t lie to her, either. So he said instead, in a quiet voice, “I noticed.”

Her cheeks pinkened and she looked down at her lap...but she was smiling. She’d been smiling a lot this evening and Ian knew, without any doubt, that he’d have to see her again. He’d never be able to survive if he didn’t. 

“I heard that you can’t find a PA that’ll work for you.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“I heard that you’re so brutal on your employees that they wish for death.”

He laughed out loud at that. “You can ask Clara about that. I doubt it’s true.”

“How do you know I didn’t?”

That brought him up short. Rose was still grinning, but she looked serious as well. He cleared his throat and went to answer the question. “I haven’t hired a PA because I have Clara.”

“She’s a paralegal, though.”

“And?”

“Shouldn’t she be doing more?”

He scoffed. “She has plenty to do.”

“She has _too much_ to do,” Rose insisted. “The poor girl barely sleeps.”

“Is that another rumor?”

Rose shook her head. “No, that’s definitely true. She always looks tired, and any time one of us asks her out for dinner or drinks she turns us down, says she has work.”

Ian narrowed his eyes at her. He thought himself rather good at rooting out deception, but could see no hint of it in Rose. Her face was guileless, open. Honest. 

Beautiful.

_Focus!_

“You’re serious?” he asked. 

“Very,” Rose answered. “She never complains, though.”

No, Clara wouldn’t complain. She wasn’t the type. He was stunned to hear what he’d done to her, but he really shouldn’t have been, he supposed. In hindsight, he probably was piling too much onto her. It was unfair and her work probably suffered - although he’d seen no evidence of that. But either way, she’d leave for another job if he didn’t lighten up.

Running a hand down his face, he sighed. “I suppose that one’s true, although I had no idea.” He thought for a second, feeling Rose’s gaze on him like a physical touch. “I’ll hire a PA as soon as the holidays are over.”

Rose gave him a brilliant smile, and he decided the misery of training a new PA would be worth it, just for that.

“Can I ask you something else?” she asked, looking at her finger drawing little circles on the table.

“Fire away.”

She looked up and pinned him with a look. “Were you my Secret Santa?”

He was sure that his mouth was hanging open and his eyes felt wide. How did she -?

That last part must have been spoken aloud in his dazed state, because she answered. “Clara told me. Well,” she amended, “she hinted. Strongly. But nothing concrete.”

 _That little traitor,_ he fumed to himself. He’d always joked that Clara knew everything about him, even things he didn’t know himself. It appeared that that might be true. 

He must have looked angry, because Rose seemed to draw in on herself. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“Yes,” he interrupted, the word sudden and abrupt, his tone matter-of-fact. “That’s true. I was your Secret Santa.” The smile she gave him would have powered the whole of England, but he felt the need to doublecheck. “Is that alright?”

“That’s brilliant,” she beamed, then blushed. 

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. “Is that why you’re here with me right now? A sense of obligation?”

Clearly surprised, her face mimicked his from a few minutes before; mouth open and eyes wide. But all too soon her eyes darkened and she pursed her lips. “No,” she said clearly. “It’s not.”

“Why then?”

_Are you insane? Do you really want to know the answer to that?_

Too late now, the question was out there. God help him. 

Rose flushed and ducked her head. “I just...I…” she stammered. 

His heart thudded in his chest, nerves overtaking him, and he fleetingly tried to remember the last time a woman had made him so anxious. He couldn’t. 

Her face grew redder and redder, until finally she spoke without looking up. “I just wanted to spend a little time with you.” There was a waver in her voice, as if she might cry, and her hands were clasped on the table in front of her, fingers writhing between each other. She seemed terribly anxious. Caught out.

He blinked, utterly shocked and too afraid to believe. 

“Is that...is that alright?”

 _That’s better than alright. That’s fan-fucking-tastic, to say the absolute bare minimum._

“Yeah,” he said, sounding strangled in his own ears. “That’s alright.”

_My God, could she actually want me?_


	4. Chapter 4

Rose was surprised when Ian came around the table after she stood and helped her into her coat. She was even more surprised when he reached over to take her hand as soon as they stepped onto the pavement. 

Surprised, but delighted.

He must have noticed the look on her face while she looked down at their joined hands, because he squeezed it to get her attention and said, “Don’t want you wandering off, now do we? You seem to be the jeopardy-friendly type.”

“What makes you say that?”

He shrugged, but there was a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Just a hunch.”

They strolled hand-in-hand down the pavement towards the shopping district, a block or two away. Rose’s heels clicked on the wet pavement, and that was the only sound between them. When shopping, Rose usually had a plan of attack; she knew what she wanted, where it was, and how to get in and out with minimum hassle. She wasn’t much of a browser, preferring efficiency - occasionally she'd browse, but not at Christmas with the throngs of crowds. 

But this time, Ian Docherty was holding her hand as they walked, and all capability for higher thought seemed to have fled. She was nothing more than heightened awareness right now, hyperfocused on the place where his skin met hers. 

She’d thought about this (and more) so many times over the last eleven months. She’d let herself daydream about what it would be like if he knew she existed… About the clever things she would say, how it might sound if he laughed at one of those clever things. She’d daydreamed, but she’d never dared to think he might be interested in her. Not really. She’d been convinced he didn’t actually know who she was. 

But here he was now, holding her hand after a dinner together. She was no expert when it came to men ( _Ha! Understatement of the year_ ), but all of the signals she was picking up seemed to indicate that he was interested in her as well. Her! The mind boggled. 

“Right then, Rose Tyler,” Ian said, breaking into her thoughts. “You tell me. Where do you want to go?”

“Hmm?” she asked, trying to think of anything other than his long fingers between hers, and the way his thumb was stroking the inside of her wrist.

“You said you needed to go shopping, right? Where do you want to go?”

_Right. Shopping. Get it together, Tyler._

“I need to pick up something for my mum.”

“Any ideas what?”

“Um…” She hesitated a moment, gathering her thoughts. “I had a couple of ideas and planned to decide on something before I got here, but…” She gestured with a wave of her free hand. “You know, the car…”

“Right,” Ian nodded. “Understandable. Well, you could always narrow it down now.”

_Not while you’re touching me._

“I suppose I’ll have to.”

He grinned at her a little and she panicked for a second, worried that he’d read her thoughts. 

“Do you need to get anything for your dad?”

She shook her head. “No dad. He died when I was just a few months old. Car accident. Hit and run.”

Ian squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Mum and I made the best of it, and life on the estates wasn't so bad. She struggled to make ends meet and there was too much month at the end of the money more often than not, but we got by.” She realized what she’d just said and to whom and her face flamed. “I have no idea why I just told you that.”

He smiled. “It’s alright.”

“I’m not a chav or anything,” she insisted. “I was determined to get out of that life.”

“Rose,” he said gently, coming to a stop and turning to face her. She turned, too, even though she was fighting back tears of humiliation. She couldn’t look at him. What must he think of her, knowing the background she came from? She’d never been ashamed of her life before, ever, accepting it as part of her history. But now, standing on the pavement with Ian Docherty, having just told him… He was certainly going to leave her standing here now, and she wanted to crawl into a hole and cry for hours. 

He brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles, and Rose felt her eyes widen in shock. He just held her hand in both of his, close enough for her to feel his breath on her knuckles, and waited. Finally, she looked up at him and his face was softer than she’d ever seen it, the hard lines he usually wore at work softened. Even in the patchy light of London at night, she could see that his eyes were sincere, kind.

“I wouldn’t care if you were a chav,” he said quietly. 

Her lip quibbled and she couldn’t say anything, so she just nodded and turned away before the tears fell. He let their joined hands drop and turned with her. They started back down the pavement, coming into larger crowds the closer they got to the shopping areas. 

“How about you?” she asked when she got control of herself. “Who will Ian Docherty be spending Christmas with?”

“No one,” he answered succinctly. “My parents are long dead and I was an only child.”

Rose’s heart sank for him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s a lovely day to just relax.”

“I imagine so,” she said idly, her mouth turned down as she thought about him puttering around alone on Christmas. Then a thought occurred to her, and her heart slammed in her chest.

“No wife?”

He laughed on a breath and shook his head. “Honestly, Rose. Do you think I’d be here right now, with you, if I had a wife?”

“No, I don’t. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Clever girl,” he grinned at her. “You’ll make a fine solicitor.”

They walked along for a couple more minutes and she waited for him to answer her. When he didn’t: “So you do or do not have a wife?”

He grinned at her, then sobered just a little. “No, Rose. I do not have a wife, nor have I ever.” He sobered further. “I suppose you could say I've been married to my job, until now.” 

His thumb stroked along the back of hers and she relished the feel, as well as the new information. _Until now._ She could barely string words together and did her best to slow her rampaging thoughts.

“No friends?”

He laughed outright then. Rose couldn’t help but smile at the sound, but she asked, “What’s so funny?”

“You are, Rose Tyler.”

“Why am I funny?”

“For asking if I have friends.”

“It’s a legitimate question.” 

“That it is,” he allowed. “Particularly given what you’ve been told about me. It stands to reason that there would be no one who would tolerate me, doesn’t it?”

Rose was horrified. “I didn’t -”

“I’m joking with you, Rose. I have friends, but all my friends either live far away or have families of their own.” She thought on that for a minute, but before she could formulate a response - or invite him to Christmas - he spoke up. “But none of this answers the question of what you’re going to get your mum, does it?”

“Shit,” she muttered. She’d completely forgotten. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

“We could go in here,” he volunteered, gesturing towards a department store. “See if anything takes your fancy.”

She gave him a shrewd look. “You can’t possibly want to go in there.”

“Why not?”

“It’s the day before Christmas Eve. They’re going to be packed to the gills.”

Ian shrugged. “You need a gift for your mother, and this looks like a likely place to get a gift. It has to be done.”

“Not there,” she told him firmly. “Look. Here’s a smaller shop, independent. It won't be nearly as crowded. We’ll be able to avoid the mad crowds. I’ll pick something from there.”

She nearly fell over in shock when he brought her hand up to his lips again and brushed another kiss along her knuckles. “Whatever you wish.”

~*~O~*~

They came to a stop on a corner a couple of blocks from the shopping, not far from where he’d parked the car. Rose turned around to face him, smiling a little.

“This is my stop,” she told him, and he looked up at the building. Not terrible. Seemed decent enough.

She squeezed his hand and went on. “Thank you, Ian. I had a wonderful time tonight -”

“Can I walk you to your door?” he blurted, then fought the urge to kick himself. _Smooth one, Docherty._ She looked a little panicked and he cursed himself soundly, again. 

“I - I think it’s only fair to warn you, Ian...I’m a bit old fashioned.”

He couldn’t help it, his lips quirked up in a half smile. She was too adorable by half. “Old fashioned, how?”

“I’m just...I don’t…” she stammered and Ian brought her knuckles up to his lips again, hoping to soothe her. 

“Are you under the impression that I’m attempting to get a leg over?” Rose gaped at him, and he smiled. “Because I’m not.”

“You - you’re _not_?”

He shook his head. “No. Not right now, anyway.”

Rose faltered and he kissed her knuckles yet again. The taste of her was addictive.

“What were you going to tell me? It’s only fair that you get to finish what you started. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“I...um...I don’t have sex on the first date,” she said, the words pressured. “Although you said...yeah. And I...I don’t do one night stands.”

“I’m not interested in a one-off.”

She looked stunned. “You’re not?”

“I’m not,” he confirmed. “One-offs are for people with no fucking substance. You, Rose Tyler, do not fit that category.”

She smiled sweetly, her eyelashes fluttering a little and he felt his knees weaken just a bit. “I don’t?”

“No,” he shook his head. “You don’t.”

The smile she gave him was brighter than any of the neon signs they’d passed so far.

“I didn’t ask to come up to try to get into your knickers, Rose. You’re more than that, you’re better than that. I asked because I had a lovely time this evening and am not quite ready for it to end. But to ease your mind, I am retracting my request to come up to your flat. I’ll stand here on the corner until you get into the building, and then I’ll go. But -” he held up a finger when she tried to cut him off. “I _am_ going to kiss you goodnight.”

Her eyes flew up to his, darting all over his face as he leaned in, slowly, and brought his free hand up to cup her cheek. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but the feel of her skin under his fingers, the look of anticipation in her eyes. Everything else fell away: their ages and their jobs and the potential ramifications that may come didn’t matter in that moment. He was going to kiss her, to taste her after a year of wanting, and nothing short of an alien invasion - or a word from her - could have stopped him from what he was about to do. 

“Is that alright?” he whispered.

Rose didn’t answer, she just nodded. That was good enough for him. He pressed his lips to hers in the softest, most fleeting touch, then pulled back a little. Rose’s eyes were closed, her cheek leaning into his hand, and her mouth was a little slack. He smiled, pleased with the effect he’d had on her, then leaned back in. 

The kiss was slow and gentle, everything a first kiss should be. His lips weren’t demanding of hers, just light touches and soft caresses, sipping her taste, letting it intoxicate him. He was determined not to push her, given her anxiety - despite the pulsing currents of electricity that radiated from his galloping heart. Rose didn’t seem to remember that she’d been anxious. Her free hand had come up to his coat, fisting the lapel, and he smiled into the kiss. Then Rose parted her lips just a little and it took every ounce of his self-restraint not to deepen it. 

Instead, displaying willpower he didn’t know he had, he pulled back, softening the loss for both of them with a couple of soft butterfly kisses. His eyes opened at the same time hers did, and they smiled at each other before leaning their foreheads together. 

“I’d like to see you again,” he told her, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. 

“When?”

“Soon. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, sweetheart.” He tried the endearment and decided he liked it. Now he just needed more chances to use it.

“Shit. You’re right. I forgot.” 

He nearly laughed. He’d flustered her and that was so, so good. 

“Boxing Day?” she offered instead. 

“Boxing Day is fine.”

“Good,” she said right before she leaned in to kiss him again. She wasted no time, opening her mouth and sending her tongue out to taste his lip. He opened for her, still determined not to frighten her with the intensity of how much he wanted this, but felt his determination slipping away the longer they kissed. Tongues were teased and lips were nibbled until he had the presence of mind to pull away before he dragged her up the stairs. 

“I need to go,” he said, hoping she would understand. 

Rose bit her lip and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Can I text you?”

“Not if I text you first,” she teased with a bright grin - one he matched. 

Ian dropped a little kiss on the tip of her nose. “Go on. Get upstairs. It’s fucking cold out here.”

“I’m not cold,” she protested, then seemed to debate with herself for a moment. She stood on tiptoes and planted one more quick kiss to his mouth. “Goodnight.”

She turned to walk away but on impulse, he held fast to her hand before she could let it go. She turned, smiling quizzically, and her eyes were wide and expectant.

“Don’t forget about me, Rose Tyler.”

Her tongue came to the corner of her mouth. “Not gonna happen.”

With one final squeeze, he let go of her hand and put his suddenly-bereft appendage into his pocket. He watched her unlock the door and go inside, turning to wave at him one last time through the large window before she disappeared up the stairs. 

Ian turned and walked away, towards his car, whistling ‘Good King Wenceslas’ and thinking he understood - for the first time - how and why people wrote love songs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was my intention to end the story here. RishiDiams wouldn't let me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *~*~* _The Smut Fairy appears and sprinkles a little bit of sparkly Smut Dust on the chapter!_ *~*~*

_26 December, 2016_

Rose had been cleaning almost compulsively since she’d gotten home from her mother’s three hours before. It wasn’t that her flat was a mess, she was actually rather tidy. It was more about soothing her jangling nerves. 

The events of Friday evening had been so fantastic that she’d almost convinced herself it had all been an elaborate dream... that when she went into work on Tuesday, everything would be just as it was when she left. Ian would be back to not knowing her name while she pined pathetically, sitting at her desk like a lovestruck teenager. The memory of his kisses must have been a figment of her overactive and overexcited imagination, she’d decided. She must have dreamed it all. 

She’d been visiting her mum when her phone had dinged with Ian’s text, asking to see her that night. She’d thought her heart would burst out of her chest when she saw the message, and it had been both automatic and an act of extreme bravery to say ‘yes’. As soon as the phone was laid down, Rose started making excuses to leave her mum’s and go home to make ready for the date. There was no telling how long this little romance with him could last, but Rose suspected it would have to end sooner rather than later and she wanted to take advantage of every moment she could before the clock struck midnight.

The vacuum went back into the closet where it belonged and Rose turned to look at the clock. 6:28. If she stopped now, she had just enough time to change and put on her makeup before he got there. Provided he showed up. 

Rose closed her eyes for a moment. _Please let him show up._

Deciding what to wear was a struggle, although she’d been debating it all day. He hadn’t specified where they were going, he’d only said ‘Italian’, and she didn’t know what the level of dress should be. Aiming for the middle ground, she settled on a cowl-neck jumper dress with a wide belt and high-heel boots. She accessorized with a long, cute necklace and a silver cuff bracelet to (hopefully) tie it all together. She spent a bit of extra time on her hair and makeup and was just finishing up when the buzzer sounded. 

It was Ian, and she thought her heart might burst from her chest with excitement. She buzzed him in and spent the last few moments before he got there going over her appearance and the appearance of her flat. She was straightening the throw pillows on her couch when the knock sounded at the door. Squaring her shoulders, she went to answer it. 

Ian stood there, looking more casual than she’d ever seen him in jeans and an oxford underneath his heavy winter coat. Rose had just assumed he’d be in his suit, but this was a welcome change. She thought he looked amazing, and couldn’t help but gawk at him a bit. 

He was having the same problem, it seemed. His eyes roamed her, head to toe, and Rose felt herself blush. 

“You look…” he started, then hesitated as if he were struggling for the right words. Finally, he landed on, “Fucking gorgeous.”

Rose’s blush deepened, and her tongue came to the corner of her mouth. “Thank you. You look really...nice yourself.”

_Oh how lame, Tyler. Nice?_

“Thank you,” he said, then pulled his hand out from behind his back, clutching a bouquet. He looked down at the yellow roses he was holding, contemplating them, then spoke. “These are for you. I haven’t done this in…a long fucking time, but I seem to remember that flowers were involved somehow.”

She laughed, couldn’t help herself, and he held them out to her. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” One hand came to his shoulder and she leaned in, intending to kiss his cheek in thanks, but his head turned and he caught her lips. Rose was only surprised for a second before she let herself melt into the kiss, her hand sliding from his shoulder up to the back of his head, fingers threading through the short hair there. She felt the gentle weight of his hands on her waist; undemanding, just resting. He worried her bottom lip and she opened to him, not waiting for him to deepen the kiss before she did, sending her tongue on a chase after his. 

Ian wrapped his arms around her then, pulling her close, and stepped up the intensity. If she’d have been able to, she’d have smiled at the knowledge that she’d made him lose a little bit of his control, but she was too awash in the sensations of the kiss. One of his hands kneaded her back, the other stayed firmly at her waist. That was fortunate, she thought, because if he wasn’t holding her up, she might have fallen. All of her joints felt wobbly and her heart was pounding. 

After a time - Rose had no idea how long - he pulled away. Both of them were breathing heavily, still wrapped in each other's arms. She blinked, her mind feeling cloudy, and looked up at him. His eyes were intense, boring down into hers, and she smiled at him. 

“Hello.”

He grinned. “Hello.”

“I like the way you kiss me.” She flushed as soon as the words were out, feeling stupid.

“Good. I rather enjoy doing it. We should do it again sometime.”

Rose felt a little thrill at the thought of him kissing her that way again. “I think so.”

“But for now,” he pressed the softest, most chaste kiss to her lips. “If we don’t leave, we’ll be late for dinner.”

Dinner. Right. They were going to dinner. She nodded and took a step out of his arms. He seemed as reluctant to let go as she was to leave. “Right.” She indicated the roses in her hand. “I’ll just put these in some water.”

When she came back, they stepped out into the hall and he waited while she locked her door. As soon as her keys were dropped in her purse, he took her hand and they started towards his car.

~*~O~*~

Ian was no expert, but he rather thought that dinner had been a rousing success. He’d asked for (and gotten) a semi-secluded table near the back of the restaurant where he and Rose had been mostly undisturbed. Conversation had been easy - something he regarded as a small miracle, considering how fucking rubbish he was at small talk - and he’d managed to keep his swearing to (what he hoped was) tolerable levels. Rose had seemed impressed by the meal and had either enjoyed his mini lectures on the history of the dishes or done an amazing job humoring him. He didn’t much care just now.

But the best thing, the absolute best thing of all, was the fact that he’d been able to make Rose Tyler smile. Him, of all people! The Oncoming Storm, bringing someone joy. The mind boggled. But she laughed at his jokes and made him feel clever, she flushed gorgeously when he complimented her, and she’d just proven herself to be damn near perfect, in general. 

Now here she was, bundled in the passenger seat of his car, beside him. He’d never have dared entertain the thought that he could have her. She was so far out of his league she was practically playing a different _sport,_ yet she had her hand resting on his while his thumb stroked her fingers. He was fairly certain that he would get to kiss her goodnight, although he was hesitant to count his chickens. High hopes, though. 

She turned in her seat when they got near her building. “I was thinking,” she started, then screwed up her mouth a little and flushed so bright he could see it in the dark of the car. “I was thinking of inviting you up for a little while tonight. If you want to come.” Her eyes widened and she looked horrified. He couldn't help it: his lip curled up in amusement. “Come _up_. I meant come _up_. Not...not the other thing.”

 _Good God, she’s adorable._ He vowed to himself to fluster her again, as often as possible. 

“I’d like that,” he answered in a quiet voice with a squeeze of her hand. 

Rose beamed at him, then pointed to the right. “The car park is just ahead.”

Ian navigated his car into a parking spot, then hopped out, coming around the car to open the door for her. He put his hand down, offering it to her, and she beamed at him when she took it and got to her feet. In a fit of bravery he tugged her close once she was standing and kissed her, putting his arm around her waist. She responded immediately, slipping her arms around his neck, and he contemplated pushing her back against the car. Deciding that she _might_ not appreciate that, he broke the kiss after a few moments and allowed himself to bask in her dazed expression - the dazed expression that _he’d_ put there. 

“C’mon,” he said, tugging her hand. “Let’s get you inside. It’s fucking cold out here.”

Rose nodded - still looking a bit flustered - and they started towards her building, palms together, fingers entwined. 

She let him go long enough to unlock her door and push it open, and he followed her in. 

“Um, can I get you something to drink?” she asked, flipping on a light, shrugging out of her coat and lying it across the back of a chair at her table. “Glass of wine?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” he told her, and not knowing what else to do, he took his own coat off and laid it over the back of a chair. He looked around. The flat was small but clean. Cozy. None of the artwork or furnishings were high end, but had been well-cared-for. She seemed to have good taste. 

There was a china cabinet against the far wall, full of dishes with a familiar pattern. Ian walked over to inspect it and smiled when he saw the butter dish and creamer sitting out on display. He reached up and ran his finger along the pattern of pink and yellow roses, grateful to the objects that had brought them together. 

Rose’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “Blush alright? I have beer if you’d prefer.”

“Blush is fine,” he called back.

To Ian, she just seemed to get better and better. 

But they needed to talk, and it had to be tonight. The subject of their jobs must be discussed and decisions made: it couldn’t be put off, not even for a day. He was terribly anxious about how the conversation was going to go. He didn’t want to let her go, was determined to not have to, but ultimately that would depend entirely on her. This subject needed to be couched delicately, and for all that convincing people was his job, he had no idea how to go about broaching this subject with her. 

Rose came into the lounge where he’d had a seat on her sofa. She gave him a small, shy smile when she sat beside him and handed him his glass of wine. They clinked their glasses together wordlessly and they each took a sip. When he was done, Ian set his glass on the coffee table and turned his body so he was facing her a little more. 

“Listen, Rose…”

A loud sigh cut him off and she leaned forward to put her own glass on the table beside his. “That’s the ‘we-need-to-talk’ voice.” 

He nodded. “We do.”

Rose looked up at the ceiling and blinked a couple of times, and he had the wild idea that maybe she was trying to blink back tears. She blew out her cheeks then looked down at him. “Alright. Go on, let me have it.”

Ian was confused. “Let you have what?”

“The speech. You’re going to tell me about how this has been fun but we can’t have any type of relationship because you’re a senior partner and you’re my boss because I’m technically your subordinate even though Sarah Jane is actually my supervisor and -”

Her words were cut off by his mouth on hers, his hand at the back of her neck holding her in place. She was stiff against him for just a moment, surprised, then surrendered, parting her lips for him and letting him taste her. His free hand went to cup her cheek, just to make _absolutely sure_ that she wasn’t trying to get away. It didn’t seem that he needed to be concerned. He felt Rose’s hands on his shoulders, gripping him as if she had the same motivations he had, and he relaxed a little, letting himself enjoy the play of her tongue against his, the texture of her dress under his hands now that he’d let them roam a bit, and the way she seemed to like nibbling on his bottom lip then sucking on it. 

“Rose,” he said, starting a trail of kisses down the column of her neck, his brogue thicker even in his own ears. “I wasn’t going to say any of those things.”

“You - you weren’t?” she asked, sounding breathless, her fingernails scratching against his scalp and driving him stark raving mad. 

_Focus!_

“No, I wasn’t.” He nipped her collarbone. “I would very much like to have a relationship with you, Rose Tyler.”

He heard rather than saw her smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I told you: I’m not after sex.”

“But you wouldn’t say no.”

Ian raised his head to look into her eyes. “Do I look fucking mental to you?” She giggled and he backtracked, lowering his head and letting his mouth get back to what it had been doing. “Don’t answer that. But this is important.” 

“So tell me.”

He abandoned his goal of leaving a mark on her shoulder and sat up, looking her in the face. Her eyes were glazed, her lips swollen, and she was absolutely the most gorgeous thing he’d seen in his life. He needed to kiss her and knew she would let him, so he did. 

A little voice at the back of his mind, however, kept nagging him that there had been something he needed to tell her, something important, and he couldn’t dismiss it. There was a moment of lucidity, and he brought his hands up to her shoulders to push her back a little so that he could talk to her. 

“When we’re at work, yes. I am your boss.” 

Rose nodded, looking down and to the side, as if she didn’t want to meet his eyes. “I know.”

“But,” he went on, crooking his finger under her chin and lifting it so that he could see her. “Outside of those four walls, I’m no such thing. I’m just Ian, you’re just Rose, and we’re just…” he gestured helplessly. “Whatever the fuck we are, I don’t know.” She laughed a little. “But my point is that no matter what we are to each other when we’re at work, outside of work we’re equals. Hell, you’re almost certainly better than me on just about every front.”

“I’m not,” she protested, smiling a little. 

“I’m not going to try to pull rank with you, sweetheart,” he assured her. “You’re not Ms. Tyler to me. You’re Rose.”

She dove forward, catching his lips again and he had more to say, there was more to talk about, but fuck it. It could wait. 

His hands had been remarkably well-behaved every time they’d kissed, but his restraint snapped when he felt her leg rub against his. One long-fingered hand found the bare expanse of skin that had taunted him all night below the hem of her dress and above her boots, while the other hand stroked and clutched at her back. A part of him relaxed a little now that he knew what her skin felt like under his touch. The rest of him was anxious to discover what the rest of her would feel like. What she would taste like. 

Rose, it seemed, was growing impatient with him. She balled her fists into the front of his shirt and lay back, pulling him on top of her, a place he went willingly. The hand that wasn’t bracing him, keeping his weight from crushing her, was now massaging her thigh and slowly, so slowly drifting upwards, under her short skirt. Rose, for her part, lifted the leg he wasn't stroking up and hooked it around his, opening herself to him. 

Ian broke away from her, panting, and started planting open-mouth kisses to her neck, careful not to leave a mark that couldn’t be easily covered. He rutted against her thigh, completely unable to stop himself from doing so, and groaned a little at the friction against his rock-hard cock. Rose’s arms were around him, her hands clutching the back of his shirt, pulling him down onto her. 

“Stop being polite, Ian,” she fairly growled.

_Alrighty, then._

“Yes, ma'am.”

Ian let his hand slide from the outside of her thigh to the inside, tracing the skin with the backs of his knuckles before he slid his fingers towards her center. Rose bucked beneath him when he reached the barrier of her knickers, and he grinned against her neck. He abandoned her thigh and began stroking her slit through her knickers, growing impossibly harder at how wet she was. She was keening and moaning and her hips were undulating, seeking more pressure and friction. He raised his head and reclaimed her mouth, snogging her in a manner that would break several decency laws, but he didn’t feel it was quite enough to communicate just how much he wanted her. 

He tugged her knickers to the side, opening her to his touch. Rose made a whimpered ‘mmhmm’ sound in his mouth, which he took as encouragement to go on. He traced her from one end of her slit to the other and then back, gathering moisture on his fingers. Then he slowly and gently parted her folds. 

She was wet, so incredibly wet, and Ian was dizzy with the implications: all of that was for him. He didn’t give himself time to dwell on it, though; he’d come to the conclusion that he had to make her come, and he wasn’t going to rest until he had. 

One finger slid through the wetness to find her clit. She let out a panting, desperate-sounding gasp and he grinned. He circled it a few times, getting a feel for what she liked, how sensitive she was, then ignored her whimper when he took his finger away from her clit. He’d be back. 

He slid one finger inside her, pumping it languidly. She bit her lip, her eyes closed, and he added a second digit. He stroked the ridged walls inside her, reveling in her panting breaths, tiny whimpers and the way she rolled her hips to meet his hand. 

He let himself watch her face as he pleasured her, let himself enjoy the way she looked, wanton and breathless, let himself be proud that she had her eyes screwed tight and was gasping for breath because of what he was doing to her. All of that was wonderful; it was a heady experience and he knew without any doubt that he’d remember this moment for as long as he lived, but he wanted her to come. He _needed_ to see her come. 

To that end, he brought his thumb up to seek out her clit. He knew he’d found it when she cried out his name and clutched his shoulder hard enough that he was sure she would have left marks had it been bare. He shushed her, placing light kisses all over her face, whispering encouragements and praise. 

“Ian…” she mewled. 

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he whispered by her ear, then nipped her earlobe. “Let go and come for me.”

Deciding on a dual assault, he circled his thumb on her clit quickly and curled his fingers inside her at the same time, pressing against her front wall. She exploded beneath him, bucking against his hand, and he bit his lip to keep from coming in his pants like a teenager. He concentrated instead on working her down slowly, milking every drop of her orgasm out of her he could, until she started to recoil from his touch. When she did, he slid his fingers out of her and replaced her knickers, putting his hand, wet with her juices, on her hip, afraid to taste her just yet. He lowered his forehead to her shoulder in a bid to will his erection away. They still had things to talk about and if he let himself do what his body was demanding, he’d spend the rest of the night fucking her through the mattress instead.

Rose had other ideas. She jostled him, wiggling around to try to get to him, and he cried out when she cupped him through his jeans. 

“Don’t…” he pleaded brokenly. 

“Why not?” she asked, sounding hurt.

“We still have things to talk about, to get straight, and they can’t wait. I can. But I’m also trying to be a gentleman.”

“A gentleman?” She sounded incredulous.

He kissed her, lightly. “Yes, a gentleman. I’m not in this for sex, Rose. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Why are you here?”

Ian looked at her for a second, trying to think of how to articulate his reasoning without sounding daft or scaring her away. He couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound completely fucking barmy. He decided there was nothing for it: he was going to have to tell the truth. He was going to kiss her first, though. 

When he pulled away, he lay his forehead against hers. “I’m here because I want to be with you. That’s all. I just want to be with you.” He was purposely vague, letting her decide how much weight she wanted to put on his statement. He knew what he meant.

She just stared at him for a few seconds without speaking, then kissed him again. All of the kissing wasn’t doing much to solve the problem of his erection, but he wasn’t about to object. 

“You’re too sweet,” she told him. 

“You take that back right this instant.”

Rose giggled. “Nothing doing. You are.” She kissed him sweetly then pulled away, smiling. “Knew you would be.” 

Ian made a disbelieving sound, then brought his hand up to brush her hair out of her face. His next words surprised the hell out of him: “Just...just lie here and let me hold you for a while. Alright, sweetheart? That’s all I need right now. There’s plenty of time.”

She gave him a long, assessing look and he kissed the tip of her nose. Finally she sighed and settled down into the crook of his arm, laying her head on his shoulder and throwing an arm and a leg across his body. Ian hadn’t cuddled in years upon years, but holding Rose like this was deeply satisfying. He was soothed by her weight on top of him, by her proximity, and tried to remember a time when he’d felt more content. He couldn’t. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered and kissed her hair. They both lay there quietly for a few minutes, Ian doodling circles on Rose’s jumper-clad arm, Rose’s fingertips tracing the seams and buttons of Ian’s shirt. Guilt and regret gnawed at him about what he had left to tell her, to clarify with her, and he had to push through it to speak.

“Rose?”

“Hmm?”

“Nobody can know about this. About us. We’re going to have to keep it a secret.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “There’s an us?”

 _Christ, I hope so._ “Haven’t I made my feelings on the matter pretty fucking obvious?” he craned his neck to cock an eyebrow at her.

Rose giggled, and the sound was magical. “You have, I’m sorry. I’ll behave.”

Ian merely kissed her hair and relaxed again, still fighting the guilt. “We have to keep us a secret. It could be a disaster if people found out.”

“I know.” Her tone was more somber, quiet.

His heart was pounding in his chest; he was sure she could feel it where her hand rested there. With his voice sounding more bold than he felt, he went on. “But I'd like to keep seeing you anyway.” 

He felt her cheek tighten into a smile against his shoulder. “I'd like that, too,” she told him. 

Hope welled within his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sweet relief flooded him and he felt his body relax. _Thank God_. “Good. I’m glad.” _I’m the luckiest bastard alive._

She nuzzled into him a little more snugly, and Ian welcomed it, welcomed her. He craned his neck and kissed the top of her hair. “All that said, I’m going to have to tell Clara.”

Rose raised her head to peer at him. “Why?”

“Well, as you may know: Clara knows everything, even the stuff I try to keep from her. She never should have known about your Secret Santa gift, but she did. She’ll find out about this, too. About us.” Rose sighed and lay back down. He took a second to kiss her forehead. “But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. She’ll be an ally, I’m sure of it.”

“Clara’s nice,” Rose agreed, then sighed. “I’m worried Amy is going to figure it out.”

“Who’s Amy?”

“Pond. Well, Williams now. She sits in the cubicle across from me.”

“The red-haired girl?”

“Yes. You know her?”

“I’ve seen her with you.” He fought the impulse to slap his hand over his mouth for letting that slip.

Rose didn’t seem to notice or mind, one or the other. “We’re best friends and she always seems to know what’s going on in my life without me having to say anything. She knew I had a crush on you well before I was ready to admit it.”

He stared at the ceiling. “There’s no way to keep it from her?”

“Probably not,” Rose answered, sounding a bit miserable. “She’s got a sixth sense or something. It’s weird.”

“Can she be trusted?”

Rose nodded. “She’s my best friend. I trust her with my life.”

“Then tell her. Take her to lunch tomorrow and tell her. But make sure she understands that it’s a complete secret.”

“I will,” she promised, then lengthened her body to kiss his cheek. 

Ian pondered the ceiling for a bit. “I meant what I said, you know.”

She propped her head up on her hand and looked at him, tracing her fingers along his shirt. “About what?”

“We can’t let this bleed into work. It could cause all manner of problems.” Rose nodded and her face fell a little. “But,” he continued, catching her hand under his and wrapping his fingers around it. He brought it up to his lips for a kiss. “I’m not willing to let work bleed into this, either. When it’s you and me, it’s just you and me.”

Her smile was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud - and it was directed at him. 

_Docherty, you lucky bastard._

Then her face grew more serious, alarming him a little. “Ian?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I want to be with you, too.”

His heart beat wildly against his ribcage, and his voice sounded strangled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Even though we’ll have to hide?”

“Even so.”

Ian pulled her up and kissed her, letting his lips and tongue speak for him without words. This woman; this amazing, fantastic woman wanted to be with him, old, broken bastard that he was. Bringer of misery, the Oncoming Storm, the dark cloud and rain on otherwise happy proceedings...this daft, precious girl wanted him.

He broke the kiss, his eyes still closed, and felt her drop a couple of kisses on his face. 

“You’re fucking barmy,” he told her, a smile playing the corners of his mouth. 

“Maybe so, but you’re stuck with me for a while.”

“Good.”

He settled down into the couch, cuddling her closer, and fell asleep trying not to question his good fortune.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rose's dress.](http://picture-cdn.wheretoget.it/ruz10s-i.jpg)


	6. Chapter 6

_27 December, 2016_

Rose woke slowly, feeling a bit stiff, as if she’d slept too long in one position. She began to make tentative movements, testing her early-morning limits, when she suddenly felt the pillow she’d been snuggled against move. 

Her eyes flew open and she gasped, drawing back from the object she’d been cuddled with. At once, a hand braced against her back, holding her in place, and she realized she’d almost teetered over the edge of the couch. 

_Why am I on the couch?_  
_Whose hand is that?_  
_What’s going on?_

She looked down at the person in front of her. It was Ian, just rolling onto his side, muttering something but still mostly asleep. The cobwebs of sleep cleared from her mind and she settled into her thoughts. 

Ian was here. He had spent the night with her - although she doubted that he’d really meant to. They’d had a lovely date the night before (she was still in her clothes, she noted with a frown), and then come back to the flat. They’d had the conversation she’d been dreading; it had gone better than she expected. And then he’d blown her mind with nothing more than the fingers of one hand. 

Was there anything this man couldn’t do?

_Well...he couldn't fix my car,_ she thought with a grin. 

__She let herself watch him sleep for a moment, taking in his face. She’d never seen him so relaxed or so quiet, and she was certain that very few people had ever seen him like this, with his defenses down. Perhaps no one had. Ian Docherty, she suspected, was not the type to give away his vulnerabilities easily._ _

__His face was a contradiction as he slept: the angles were sharper with all of his muscles relaxed, but he seemed softer, somehow, at the same time. He certainly looked younger. And oh, so handsome._ _

__It was still dark in the flat, but Rose was sure that morning couldn’t be far off. She needed to wake him up if they were going to get to -_ _

__Work! Oh, God, work!_ _

__She turned her head quickly to look at the clock on the cable box. 5:24. Okay, not too bad yet, but still. They needed to move. Ian needed to get home and get dressed, and she needed a shower._ _

__Turning back to Ian, she watched him sleep for a moment more before she put her hand on his shoulder and shook him awake._ _

__“Ian. Ian, wake up.”_ _

__He stirred a little, then let his eyes crack open, taking in his surroundings. After just a second he sat up like a shot, nearly dislodging her. Her arm flew out to brace herself and he grabbed her protectively. When the danger of her falling had passed, however, he let her go, rubbing his eyes instead. Rose had the impulse to tell him to put his hands back._ _

__“What time is it?” he asked, his voice rough from sleep._ _

__“Half five.”_ _

__“In the morning?”_ _

__Rose nodded._ _

__“Goddammit.” He sighed, dragging his hand down his face. “I’ve got to go,” he said, quickly getting to his feet. She followed suit._ _

__Her mouth opened several times to say something to him as he pulled his coat off the chair and put it on, but she had no idea what to say. Should she apologize for falling asleep? Should she tell him that it was the most wonderful date she’d ever had? Should she ask if they could do it again? She had no idea what to say to him...she’d never been in a situation like this before, not really, and _certainly_ not with Ian Docherty. What should she do?_ _

__She still wasn’t sure what she was going to say when she started speaking. “Ian, I’m -”_ _

__He cut her off, bringing his hand up to cup the back of her head and kissing her soundly. She sank into the kiss, relieved, and circled her arms around him._ _

__They were both breathing heavily when he broke away, and Rose’s eyes fluttered open slowly._ _

__“Dinner tonight at mine?” he asked, his voice low and sexy. Rose nodded, feeling his fingers trace her cheeks, and he dipped back in to kiss her again. Her hands clutched the back of his jacket, holding him as close as she could and pressing herself against him. He put his arms around her, pulling her even closer, holding her there. When the kiss finally broke he dropped a couple more light kisses to her cheeks, her closed eyelids, her swollen lips, then pulled away._ _

__“I’ll see you, sweetheart,” he nearly whispered. “Tonight. Yeah?”_ _

__“Yeah,” she whispered back._ _

__He gave her a grin then unlocked the door, opened it, kissed her forehead, and slipped out. Rose closed the door behind him, biting her lip on a smile, the memory of his kisses fresh. She turned and sank against the door with a happy sigh._ _

____

~*~O~*~

Ian closed the door to his expansive, luxurious shower and stepped into the spray. For the last twenty years, since he’d become a solicitor and set about working his way up the ladder, he’d kept his time in the shower as an almost holy thing. When he was in the shower, he was able to be truly alone. It was the only place where he wouldn't be pestered by an associate asking him to sign something, there was no danger of the phone interrupting him, and he could just...breathe. Each day, he went into his shower and on most days, he came out much more zen as well as clean.

It was also the one time per day when he was able to _think_. The steps to wash his body were automatic and required no thought, so he was able to focus on whatever topic needed his attention that day. 

On this particular day, the topic was Rose. Not too unusual, that. God knows he’d spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about her since she’d started at the firm last January. 

But today was different. Now he was in a _relationship_ with Rose Tyler. This required a bit of thought. 

The pitfalls to this relationship were numerous. He was two decades older than her: old enough to be her father. The fact that she wanted him anyway was mind-boggling, but he was no fool. He knew that May/December romances which worked out were rare, and the fact that he knew but was pursuing her anyway made him...something. Foolhardy or brave. Hopeful or stupid? He didn’t know. Possibly all of the above. 

His position as a QC and hers as a pupil made what they were doing incredibly dangerous. When you factored in that she worked in his firm under his partner, it made the situation downright insane. If anyone were to find out, they could lose their jobs - which would be much more disastrous (and likely) for Rose than for him. They would be slightly safer when she finished her pupilage and became a solicitor, but only marginally. The two of them were playing with fire and he knew it. Rose was clever. He was sure she had at least some idea what they were risking. Yet she had told him last night that she wanted to be with him.

Ian didn’t care what it might do to him. If the other partners booted him - which was _highly_ unlikely - he could find another job in a heartbeat, or just hang out his own shingle. Rose, though… If they were caught before she finished her pupilage at the end of January, it would void the entire year and she'd have to find another pupil supervisor to take her on - a task that would likely prove impossible with such a black mark on her name. 

When she got her practicing certificate she’d likely be hired on by the firm, and their relationship would almost be a typical office romance - the differences being, of course, the disparity in their ages and positions. If caught, Rose would almost certainly be sacked, which would gut him - not to mention what it would do to her to lose her first job. 

The stakes were enormous; the intelligent thing to do would be to call the whole thing off, at _least_ until she finished her pupilage.

But he couldn't help it. She made him _happy_. He was able to relax when he was with her. He’d actually fallen asleep on her couch with her the night before! That was unheard of. He hadn't slept with someone - actually slept - in more than a decade. He wasn't a cuddler; touching in an intimate way seemed counterintuitive to him. He had never enjoyed it and had shied away from it in past relationships, both in public and private. Yet he sought opportunities to touch Rose, even if it was just holding her hand. Last night he’d held her close and reveled in it, had even _asked_ for it, and had done so less than four days after he kissed her for the first time. The thought was as boggling as it was warming. Last night on that couch had been the best sleep he'd had in years, despite the couch being small and not-terribly-comfortable, and he could only attribute it to the fact that she’d been curled around him. 

No, Ian couldn't wait. He needed her in his life _now_. They could be covert, of course they could. They'd have to be sneaky no matter what, even after she got her practicing certificate, right? What was the difference in starting a few weeks early? 

He was rationalizing. It was selfish, dangerous thinking and he knew it, but it didn’t matter. He wanted her, wanted to be with her, wanted to stay with her. He wanted to make a habit out of waking up beside her (he cracked his neck - _although preferably in a bed_ ). He wanted to kiss her whenever he pleased. He wanted to hold her, to feel her soft curves against him. 

He wanted to touch her, to make her come apart like he had last night. 

Ian did his best to ignore his twitching and hardening cock while he washed his hair and relived his time with Rose the night before. He could remember the way she smelled, the way she tasted. The way her heat felt gloved around his fingers, the way she’d undulated beneath his touch, the way she’d called his name when she flew apart.

Deciding he wasn’t a martyr, Ian took himself in hand, pumping quickly as visions danced behind his eyes of a naked Rose whimpering his name, her back arched and her hair wild around her head - visions that seemed likely to become reality. 

And when his come splattered across the tile of his shower a few minutes later, he whimpered her name in turn.

~*~O~*~

As had been the case since Rose started at Stewart, Docherty, and Smith almost a year ago, she could hear Ian before she saw him. His voice was loud as he took long strides down the corridor towards his office.

“No. No. Listen. I don’t give a fuck, yeah? I don’t care how it inconveniences you. I need that fucking deposition tomorrow at 8am or so help me God, I’m going to use your entrails as a fucking jump rope.” 

He pulled his mobile away from his face and pressed a button to end the call. Looking up, he spotted Rose watching him and gave her a quick wink as he passed. Rose felt a little thrill all through her body and bit her lip, doing her best not to blush as she turned back to her desk.

Amy didn’t look up from her computer. “He’s going to figure you out, you know.”

Rose whipped her head up. “What?”

“Mr. Docherty. He’s going to figure you out.”

“Figure _what_ out?”

Amy flipped a paper in the file she was working on, still not looking up. “That you’re madly in love with him. Do you have the Jovanka file?”

It wasn’t a surprise, not really. Amy thought she was teasing Rose, but there was new weight to what she was saying today that hadn’t been there the last time she’d done it, four days ago. Rose checked her watch, noting the time, and made a decision. 

She got to her feet and stepped across the aisle to grab Amy by the arm. “Come on. Come with me. We need to get coffee.”

Amy looked up at her in confusion. “We just sat down fifteen minutes ago.”

“I _really_ need coffee, Amy. _Now_ ,” she got out through gritted teeth. Her friend blinked, then clambered to her feet. 

Rose was a coiled ball of tension as she plowed down the corridor towards the break room with Amy in tow. Once there she pushed Amy inside, gave the corridor a quick glance each way, then closed the door behind them. 

“What the hell, Rose! You can’t - “

“Amy, hush. Listen. We’re together,” she blurted, wondering what Ian would say if he heard her. 

“You’re together?”

“Yes.”

She shook her ginger head in frustration. “ _Who_ is together?”

Rose felt like her heart was going to pound out of her chest. “Me and Ian. Mr. Docherty. We’re...we’re together.”

Amy’s eyes were wide, her mouth a perfect ‘o’, and her shoulders had dropped. She could not have looked more stunned if Rose had thrown a bucket of water in her face. “Say that again?” she requested. 

“Ian and I. We’re together.”

“You're using his name.”

“He told me to.”

“Why would he do that?”

Rose made a frustrated sound. “I told you! Because we’re _together_.”

“You keep saying that word.”

“That’s the best word I have for it,” Rose told her. “I don't know how else to put it.”

“Do you mean…” Amy twirled her hand in the air a bit, gesturing for Rose to go on. When she didn’t: “Romantically?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”

Amy just stared at her, dumbfounded. After a minute of her mouth opening and closing with no words forthcoming, she finally managed, “How on _Earth_ did _that_ happen!?”

“Shhh! Keep it down!” Rose hissed, looking at the door to make sure it was still closed.

“Fine,” Amy stage whispered. “Tell me how this happened.”

“My car broke down Friday night and he helped me. He asked me what my plans were and I told him I’d planned on going shopping. He took me to dinner and then to shop for my mum. And he kissed me.”

Amy brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “Oh my God.”

“There's more,” Rose went on. “He was my secret Santa. He got me the butter dish and creamer.”

“He did not. He’s lying to you.”

“He’s not! He really did.”

“He just told you that to -”

“ _He_ didn’t tell me, Clara did. When I confronted Ian about it he looked like he’d seen a ghost, then he got angry before he told me the truth.”

Amy looked alarmed. “He got angry?”

Rose sighed. “It's not what you're thinking. He’s different. He’s not like that when he’s not in the office.” She changed the subject before Amy could argue. “We got together again last night. He took me to dinner. We had Italian. Then he came back to mine and…” She flushed, unable to finish. 

Amy’s eyes went from suspiciously narrowed to wide with shock. “You didn’t.”

She shook her head. “No. He’s a perfect gentleman.” She ignored Amy’s scoff. “But we decided that we _do_ want to see each other. In order to do that, though, it’s going to have to be an _absolute secret_.” Rose’s voice was fierce when she admonished Amy. 

Amy looked nonplussed. “If it’s such a secret, why are you telling me?”

“Because you’re my best friend and you’d figure it out on your own if I didn’t.”

“You’re serious about this.”

Rose felt a smile creeping across her face. “Yeah.”

“You’re having a fling with Mr. Docherty.”

She stiffened, offended. “It’s not a fling!”

“It’s not a relationship!” Amy snapped. “Rose, he’s _at least_ twenty years older than you, probably more like thirty. He’s a QC. He’s a senior partner in this firm. This _can’t_ be anything but a fling to him! He probably does this all the time!”

Rose’s blood was boiling, but she had no defense. She knew he wasn’t married, but there was no guarantee that he felt the same way about her as she did about him. Her gut instinct was that he was being truthful with her, he’d seemed so sincere the night before. But it very well _could_ be just a little lark for him. 

“That’s not even touching on what he’s like,” Amy went on, unaware of Rose’s turmoil. “Rose, the man is the most short-tempered person I’ve ever encountered. I’m not entirely sure he’s human!”

“He’s human!” Rose defended. “And he’s not like that outside of work. He’s….well, he’d kill me for saying it, but he’s... sweet.”

Amy scoffed, crossing her arms. “There’s no way you’ll ever get me to believe that that man is _sweet._ ”

“You don’t have to believe me,” Rose snapped. “You just have to keep your mouth shut and not tell anyone.”

“I should tell,” Amy threatened. “To protect you, to keep you safe from him. I should go straight to Sarah Jane and tell her.”

“You wouldn’t be protecting me, you’d be getting me fired, permanently ruining my career, and breaking my heart in the process. Is that really what you want?”

Amy stared Rose down for a minute, then clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Fine. It’s a secret. An ‘ _absolute secret_ ’, as you put it.” She put ‘absolute secret’ in mocking finger quotes. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“You won’t?”

“I won’t.”

Rose held out her hand, her pinky extended. “Pinky swear.”

“Pinky swears are for children.”

“Yeah, but I know you still take them seriously. Now, pinky swear with me that you won’t tell anyone.”

Amy rolled her eyes then held her pinky out, looking annoyed but resigned. Rose took the offered pinky and linked hers through it. The two of them shook hands that way, kissed their fists, then turned their heads and made a spitting sound. Once they were done, Rose threw her arms around her best friend and hugged her. “Thank you. It’ll be brilliant. You’ll see.”

“I’m not promising to be happy about this,” Amy warned. “I think he’s dangerous.”

“He’d never hurt me, Amy. I swear. He…” She hesitated just a moment, her face heating up again. “He seems just as interested in me as I am in him.”

Amy huffed a laugh. “I can’t imagine that. Nobody has _ever_ been as interested in someone as you have been in Mr. Docherty.”

Rose just giggled, her tongue curling around her teeth. “He’s not what you think he is, really. You’ll see.”

“I guess I will,” Amy sighed.


	7. Chapter 7

Ian pressed the button on the mobile to end his call and, out of habit borne from months of longing, glanced over at Rose. She was looking at him and although part of him wanted to shake his head, indicate she should go back to her work, he couldn’t possibly do that. Not right now, not while things were still embryonic. So he winked at her and turned his eyes back to the front before he got a chance to see her reaction. 

He arrived at his office a few steps later and shot a look at Clara’s cubicle. She wasn’t at her desk, but he figured she’d be along shortly. He jotted “see me” with his initials on a sticky note and stuck it to her computer monitor, then went into his office and shed his coat, preparing for the day. 

Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door and he looked up to see Clara poking her head inside. 

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah.” He laid the brief down that he’d been working with. “Come in, and close the door if you don’t mind.”

He waited with fingers steepled in front of his face, index fingers against his lips, until she took her customary seat across from him, spending the time deciding what to say. 

There was a knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t explain. Clara was his most trusted employee, probably the person he trusted most in the entire firm. She’d stuck with him where so many others had failed. Other than Rose, Alistair, and Sarah Jane, she was the only person in the firm to call him ‘Ian’ - not even the junior partners were allowed to do so. It was a mark of his faith in and admiration of her that she was. 

It was that faith and admiration that was the underlying reason for this meeting. He knew she’d be delighted with one of his bits of news and likely stunned by the other. But he couldn’t imagine how to proceed. 

She narrowed her eyes and peered at him. “Ian? What’s wrong?”

“I have good news for you, Clara,” he started, sitting up and deciding on at least one course of action. 

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’m hiring a PA this week or next. Once that person is trained, you’ll be relieved of those duties. They will work as my assistant and, by extension, yours as well.”

Clara’s shoulders relaxed and a tired smile crossed her face. He saw, for the first time, just how exhausted she looked and knew that Rose had been right. He’d put too much onto her. It made him feel even better about hiring a new PA than he already did. 

“Thank you, Ian.”

“You’re welcome. It’ll be your responsibility to help train them,” he warned with a finger up. “I won’t be able to do it all on my fucking own.”

“Of course. That won’t be a problem.”

“Good.” Ian sat back in his chair, satisfied that particular situation would work out well, and threaded his fingers together over his abdomen. 

“Is that all?”

“Not...quite,” he hedged. The ball of anxiety he’d been feeling swelled and his mind raced. Everything with Rose had felt like a dream since Friday night when she’d put her hand over his, but now he was about to speak it aloud. That made everything feel more real, somehow. 

It also made him feel much more vulnerable. But if there was anyone he trusted, anyone at all, it was Clara. 

“I am...seeing someone,” he started. 

Clara’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. “You are?”

“I am.”

“Well, congratulations.” She shook her head, puzzled. “Why are you telling me?”

He sat up, putting his elbows on his desk. “I need you to understand that I’m telling you about this in the strictest confidence. Absolutely no one can know about it outside of this room.”

“You’re worrying me a bit, Ian,” Clara said with her brow now furrowed. “What’s going on?”

“The woman I’m seeing…” Ian hesitated, not sure how to proceed.

Clara saved him. “Is it someone at this firm?”

“Yes.”

“Is it someone I know?”

“Yes.”

“Is it Rose Tyler?”

Ian felt his eyes widen in shock, then closed them and shook his head. Clara knew _everything_. It stood to reason she’d know that, too. 

“Ian…” 

“Yes. It’s Rose.”

“What the _hell_ are you thinking?” Clara jumped to her feet and started pacing. 

He blinked again, surprised by this outburst. “Excuse me?” 

“I said ‘what the hell are you thinking’? You have to know how reckless this is!”

No one but Clara could ever get away with talking to him like this, but perhaps he needed her harsh words. “Of course I know, Clara. So does Rose.”

“Does she? Does she _really_ , Ian? Because I can’t imagine she’s foolish enough to jeopardize her entire career five weeks before it even truly begins!”

“It’s more like four weeks,” he protested weakly, and Clara gave him a sharp look. “Look, we talked about it, yeah? And we want to be together.” He leaned back in his chair again and dragged his hand down his face. “Christ, it feels weird saying that.”

“It feels weird hearing it, too, but you know what will feel weirder? Trying to find a new job. Why would you tell me this? Make me complicit?”

He rolled his eyes. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Clara. It’s our necks on the chopping block, not yours.”

“You say that now but when the shit hits the fan, I’ll go down, too. And mark my words,” she wagged a finger at him. “Shit _will_ hit the fan.”

“What the fuck makes you so sure of that?” he demanded, his own temper rising a bit. 

“Ian,” she started, then took her seat again, “think about this. Alistair and Sarah Jane...if they found out…You’ll have to keep this a complete secret. They’ll sack Rose and her career will be ruined. There’s no telling what they’d do to you.”

“I know what they’d do. I’m one of them, remember?”

“Even if you keep this hidden from everyone until her pupilage is over, you’ll have to _keep_ hiding it after, when she’s a solicitor. They won’t be any more pleased because she has her PC.”

“I fucking know that,” he snapped. 

“But how long can you hide it? Let’s say this relationship goes the distance. How long are you going to be willing - or able! - to keep it a secret? You’ll never be able to tell anyone. You’ll constantly be looking over your shoulders. _That’s_ what you’re signing yourself up for.”

“It’s worth it,” he retorted, belligerent. “She’s worth it.” 

“I know _she’s_ worth it.” Clara rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Rose is amazing. If I hadn’t known for months that she had a crush on _you_ , I would have pursued her myself.”

“You knew!?” Ian sat bolt upright. “You’ve known this whole fucking time?!”

“Yes! And I knew about you, too. I never said anything because I was afraid _this_ would happen! This very thing!”

“You said something to Rose!”

She looked confused, affronted. “I most certainly did not!”

“You did! You told her that I bought her secret Santa gift. Which, by the way, no one was supposed to know. I’m not sure I want to know how you fucking figured it out.”

“You left the receipt on the printer,” she explained anyway, almost smug. “I knew you’d done it the day you ordered it.”

He shook his head to get himself back on track. “But you told Rose, is my point.”

“Yeah, well, Adam kept insinuating that _he’d_ bought the dishes. I couldn’t stand by and let that idiot lie his way into a date with her, could I?”

“No.” He slumped back in his chair and crossed his arms, fuming. She was right and, with her explanation, he was glad she’d done what she did. Didn’t improve his mood much, though.

She didn’t say anything and after a few moments, he sat back up and put his elbows on the desk. “Well, it’s happened. Rose and I are...together, for lack of a better word.” He wondered idly what Rose would call it, then shook the thought off and returned to the subject at hand. “And I’m fucking happy about it. Happier than I’ve been in...Christ, I don’t even know how long. Years. Decades.”

Clara snorted. “Yeah, you sound happy.”

“I’m fucking rowing with you!” he protested.

She leaned back in her own chair, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips and letting out a great sigh. “If you’re happy and Rose is happy, that’s all I care about.”

“Thank you.”

A neatly-manicured finger was leveled at his chest. “But you swear to me I won’t lose my job.”

“I’ll make damned sure you stay employed, Clara, no matter what.”

“Good,” she said, looking somewhat mollified. “Right then. What do you need from me?”

Ian assessed her for a minute, thinking about her question, trying to decide just what, exactly, he _did_ need.

“I’ll need you to run interference, so to speak. Keep us away from each other. She shouldn’t, but if she needs something from me related to a case, you handle it. I’m giving you full authority to act in my stead, and if you have a question, you can come to me. _Without_ Rose,” he clarified. Clara nodded. “She and I have spoken and know we need to avoid each other at work. Thank Christ she’s Sarah Jane’s pupil and not mine. You shouldn’t have to do much.”

“No problem. I know Rose fairly well and we’ll work together just fine, if need be. What else?”

“That’s it, really,” he shrugged. “And keep it to yourself, of course. Maybe discourage any rumors that may happen to pop up.”

“I can do that.” She hesitated. “You know you have to limit _all_ contact here at the office, not just face-to-face.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “I’m aware of that.”

“Don’t use any office machinery to talk to her. No phone, no email, no instant messenger.”

“I’m not a fucking idiot, Clara.”

She ignored him. He was sure she probably had a different opinion at the moment. 

“You need to change the names in your mobile.”

He looked at her, puzzled. “What?”

“Your contact information. In your mobile. Rose needs to do the same. You exchanged numbers, yeah?” He nodded. “If you have yourselves listed as ‘Ian’ and ‘Rose’, you won’t even be able to text each other at work. If you change it and she texts you in the middle of the day for some reason, it won’t show up as ‘Rose Tyler’ on your screen for anyone nearby to see. Same for her. There would be questions if Ian Docherty texted her.”

It was a damn good point; one he hadn’t considered. He nodded. “Thank you, Clara, she and I will talk about that tonight.”

“I can talk to her now, if you like,” Clara offered, gesturing towards the door. 

Ian held up a hand. “No, no. We’re having dinner tonight. I’ll talk to her about it then. I’m sure it’ll be fine for one day.”

Clara looked doubtful, but didn’t argue. “Good. Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all. Go away, Clara.” She got up to leave and he remembered something. “Oh, wait. Sort through the applications and CVs we have for any administrative positions and pick out the ones you think most likely to be able to work with you and me. We’ll set up interviews for the end of the week.”

“You have court on Friday.”

He swore under his breath. How was it possible that he’d forgotten about a court date? He knew how it was possible: Rose was in his head. “Alright, first of next week.”

“Sounds good.”

She turned to walk towards the door again and Ian reached for the brief before Clara stopped and turned towards him. 

“Can I give you a bit of advice?” she asked. 

“Pertaining to what?”

“Rose.”

_Please do. It’s not like I have any fucking clue what I’m doing._

“Go ahead.”

“Rose is a sweet girl. Much more compassionate than she should probably be in the profession she’s chosen.” Clara leaned against the doorjamb. “She fell for you almost as soon as she walked through the door, and I always wondered why. _I_ know that you’re not always a gruff bastard, but most people don’t. That’s all they ever see. Yet Rose knew almost instinctively that there was more to you than that.”

“Do you have a fucking point?”

“Be gentle with her. Don’t treat her the way you treat everyone else, and don’t make her wait years to get to know you before you’re kind to her, the way you did me.”

“Do you honestly think I would mistreat her?”

“Not intentionally,” she said with a tiny shrug. “But when you’re a bear to most other people, it doesn’t mean anything. When you growl and swear at me, I don’t take it personally. It would _mean_ something if you treated Rose that way. She would take it personally because you have a personal relationship. And I don’t know that she’d open herself up for that kind of treatment more than a couple of times. She’s a smart girl. She knows to run away from what hurts.” 

Ian stared at her for a minute, processing the warning he’d just been given. Clara didn’t waver, and after a while, he cleared his throat. “Duly noted. I’ll do my best.”

“Good.” Clara gave a short nod, then pushed off the doorjamb. 

His next words felt sticky in his throat, then burst forth in a rush. “I may need to ask you for help. Or...or guidance. What the fuck ever you want to call it.” She gave him a knowing smile, and he felt himself flush. “From time to time.”

“I’ll be happy to help, anytime. And I’ll tell you if I see you being an arse.”

“Good. Yes. Thank you, Clara.”

“You’re -”

She was cut off by a knock at the door. When she opened it, Ian saw a hand poke through holding a folded square of paper. Clara opened it and skimmed it quickly, her eyes widening. 

“What is it?”

Ian got to his feet when she took two steps forward with the note in her hand held out to him. He took it and looked down. 

_Jeff Delobel has reversed his testimony. Now testifying for the defense._

He stared at the note for a minute, letting his eyes run over and over the words as he did his best to absorb them. When he was sufficiently angry, he balled the note in his fist, turned, and threw it at the wall. 

“ _MOTHER-_ ”

~*~O~*~

“ _-FUCKER!_ ”

Rose flinched, just as she had every time Ian yelled expletives from his office a few yards away. He’d been in a towering temper all day, shouting at everything that happened to get in his way. The door to his office was currently closed, but that did little to stifle the sounds of his rage. The rumor was that his expert witness for the case he’d spent months on had reversed himself, taking away Ian’s slam dunk. And from the bits and pieces she’d been able to gather from his shouting, that sounded spot on. 

“ _You tell that little fucker that Ian Docherty is gunning for him. You tell him that fucking me over is the last thing he’s ever going to do in this profession. I’ll see the corpse of his career on a goddamn pike on London fucking Bridge!_ ”

She had been planning on dinner with him tonight at his flat, something she’d been nervous but excited about, but she felt fairly confident that he wouldn’t be up for a romantic dinner tonight. Not after the day he’d had.

_”That son of a crab-ridden whore!”_

Clara scurried by, towards Ian’s office. She met Rose’s eye as she passed and quirked her mouth a little. Rose couldn’t tell if it was sympathy, commiseration, or encouragement. Perhaps all three.

_Well,_ she thought, _at least he got to talk to Clara before everything went wrong._ She couldn’t articulate why, not even to herself, but the thought was oddly comforting. 

_”Fucking moronic sack of shit! I’ve scraped more fucking intelligence off my shoe!”_

The worst part of this day for her, she thought, were the looks that Amy kept shooting her. They alternated between smug, clearly saying ‘I told you so’, to pitying, to downright worried. Any time Rose caught her at it, she’d smile back as if to say that she wasn’t worried in the least. 

When quitting time rolled around, Rose finished up the brief she’d been working on and put it away. As surreptitiously as possible, she walked by Ian’s office and looked inside. He was behind his desk, his face buried in his hands, papers stacked all around. No, there was no way he was going to be the least bit worried about her tonight. She packed her stuff and headed out.

Amy was waiting for her when she got to the car park and pulled her aside. 

“Rose…”

“I know what you’re going to say, and it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! You’ve heard him all day!”

“He’s having a bad day. Everyone has bad days, Amy.”

“But not everyone reacts like that, Rose. It’s not healthy. What’s going to happen when you get under his skin? Have you thought about that?”

“He’d never do that to me,” Rose assured her.

“How do you know, Rose? How do you know for sure?”

She laughed off Amy’s concerns and gave her best friend a hug. Then she got into her car: heading for home instead of Ian’s flat, as had been planned. She couldn’t tell the truth: that she wasn’t sure. She had to admit that it rattled her, hearing him like that. What if he turned that rage on her? She was no wilting violet, but she wasn’t sure she could withstand what he was capable of dishing out, either. 

What _would_ he be like if he got angry with someone he cared about? The man had put golf clubs through windows, kept a cricket bat in his office that had the benefit of making him appear more menacing, and had a reputation that made a story about him making a judge cry believable. 

As soon as she walked in the door to her flat she started stripping off her professional-looking work clothes and slipped into a pair of denims and an oversized jumper, determined to shrug off this day. 

Ian was a right bastard at work, but she had known that from the beginning. He admitted it freely. There was no reason to believe that he’d lied to her when he told her he wasn’t the same bloke outside of work; she’d seen no evidence that what he’d told her wasn’t true. The only option was to quit the entire situation, and she wasn’t willing to do that. She’d wanted him and had waited for a year to have this chance, sure she’d never get it. Now she had it. If she chose to run without giving him the benefit of the doubt, she was likely to end up the big loser. 

No, she was going to stick around. She didn’t really believe that he would ever hurt her. Ian was a good man. Rose knew it in the very marrow of her bones. All she needed was a chance for him to prove it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~*~*~ _The Smut Fairy appears and sprinkles the chapter with Sparkly Smut Dust!_ ~*~*~

The office was too quiet: much quieter than it should have been for a Tuesday afternoon. He looked up at his windows and saw that it was already twilight outside. The soft whirring of a vacuum came from out in the bullpen somewhere, and he dropped his head to his desk, banging it against the wood. 

Everyone in the office had gone home, which meant that Rose had gone home as well. He’d been so looking forward to dinner tonight at his flat, but then that fucker had reversed his testimony and ruined the day. 

He laid his head back against the headrest of his office chair and blew out his cheeks. He was exhausted...not just physically and mentally, but emotionally as well. He’d done everything he could to save the case, but there was only so much he could do to keep his fingers in the dam. The case was reasonably strong without the expert testimony, but he’d have preferred the slam dunk that had been assured when he’d had Delobel’s opinion in his pocket. Still, there was nothing to do about it now. It would all be in the hands of the jury come Monday.

But much worse than losing the expert and potentially the case, Rose had seen him on his absolute _worst_ behavior. The thought was agonizing. She’d seen him so angry today he’d had a hard time controlling it, seen him when he could feel the veins throbbing in his forehead, seen him swearing at inanimate objects. It wasn't an entirely unusual situation for him at work and he’d been this way many times. He knew she'd seen it before. But this time was different...he’d blown his stack after he spent the night with her for the very first time. What must she think of him? He wouldn’t be at all surprised if she told him to piss off when he asked to see her again. It would be no more than he deserved. He certainly didn’t deserve _her_. 

But oh, how he craved her, how he longed for her. Ian knew, instinctively, that after all the shit he’d dealt with today, all he needed was _her_ and everything would be alright. 

It might not be too late. He checked his watch. It was only 6:15. Not too late to see her, if she’d be willing. 

And that was the rub, wasn’t it? Would she be willing to see him? She shouldn’t be. Any woman with any sense of self-preservation would be running for the hills right now. It would serve him right if Rose did the same thing. 

Ian picked up his phone to text Rose, then sent up a quick prayer that he hadn’t fucked everything up. 

~Ian - _have you eaten?_

It seemed to take forever before he got an answer, although in reality it was less than a minute. 

~ Rose - _no, I was about to order in. I thought you had to work?_  
~ Ian - _nothing more I can do here, and I wanted to see you_

Insecurity struck him as soon as it was sent, and he fired off another message.

~ Ian - _can I see you?_

Her reply was quick and he felt every muscle in his body relax when he read it. 

~ Rose - _of course you can. I’ll need directions to yours, though_  
~ Ian - _I’ll come to yours if that’s alright_  
~ Rose - _that’s fine._  
~ Ian - _want me to pick up dinner?_  
~ Rose - _I’ll order Indian_  
~ Ian - _perfect. be there in half an hour_

Ian laid the phone down and reclined in his chair. He’d made an ass of himself, but at least she was willing to see him. He’d do everything in his power to _keep_ her willing to see him. They may have been together for less than a week, but it was long enough for him to know that she enriched his life, made it sweeter. It was long enough for him to know that he needed her. 

He’d do better. He’d _be_ better. All he needed was a chance.

~*~O~*~

Ian took a couple of deep breaths to try to exorcise the day he’d had, then stepped out of the car, locked it, and started towards her building. When he got to the door, he pressed the button beside Rose’s apartment number. Her voice was tinny through the little speaker and he slumped with relief when he heard it.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me,” he answered, then immediately wondered if not saying his name was being presumptuous. He couldn’t afford to be; he had to do everything right with her.

The buzzer sounded before he could clarify who “me” was, and Ian opened the door to go inside. He felt like he was dragging himself up the stairs, but Rose was at the top, waiting for him. He’d power through. 

She had the door open when he got there and met him just inside, putting her arms around his shoulders and pulling him down into a tight hug. He sent his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck. Her touch was a balm, her scent soothing. Ian felt the tight knot inside him loosen a little, felt his entire body relax just a touch. It seemed she didn’t hate him and his relief was nearly overwhelming. 

“Hey,” she said, barely above a whisper, as if afraid he might spook and run.

“Hey.” 

“Long day, yeah?”

He just grunted. 

Rose let go of him, pulling back and looking into his eyes. “You alright?”

“I’m always alright,” he answered automatically. At her disbelieving look, he amended. “I’m better now that I’m here.”

“Good.” She stood on tiptoe to plant a quick kiss on him, pulling away before he could deepen it. “C’mon. Go in the lounge and get comfy. I’ll bring your curry.”

“You don’t have to take care of me, Rose.”

She shook her head. “I know I don’t have to. I want to. You deserve a break, yeah?”

He could certainly use one, whether he deserved it or not. “Yeah,” he acknowledged. 

Rose went back on tiptoe to kiss him again, lingering a little this time. He clutched her hips, clinging to her like the lifeline she was. 

Too soon she pulled away again, smiling up at him. “Go in the lounge,” she repeated. “Kick off your shoes, loosen your tie. Do whatever you need to do to get comfortable. I’ll be just behind you with the curry.”

Without another word, she turned and went into the kitchen. Ian stared after her, trying to put a name to the warmth blooming in his chest.

~*~O~*~

The curry was delicious, some of the best he’d ever had, and he told Rose so. She just smiled and said they’d have to order it again sometime. With the knowledge that she intended to have him back to her flat semi-regularly, he felt himself relax just a bit more.

Once their supper was done, Rose slid right over to where he sat in the corner of her couch and wiggled her way under his arm. It wasn’t a familiar position for Ian - not for many years - but he found he rather enjoyed it with Rose. Her proximity was soothing, the warmth and press of her body against his was a balm. She pulled a throw blanket off the back of her couch and onto her legs, then leaned forward to grab the remote from the coffee table and handed it to him. 

“Whatever you want,” she told him. 

“The only thing I ever watch is the fucking news.”

She shrugged. “If that’s what will help you relax, we’ll watch the news.”

“Rose -”

She shushed him and lay her hand on his chest. “Just relax, Ian.” She nuzzled her head down into his shoulder. “Relax.”

It was so incredibly simple to just follow her direction and let some of the tension bleed out of him. They sat there for a while, still and quiet, letting the day sink further and further into their past with every passing minute. 

But after forty-five minutes, guilt finally got the better of him. “Rose?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For being such a fucking prick.”

She didn’t look up, but he noted the slightest tensing in her. “You haven’t been a prick to me.”

“No, but I was a prick in front of you.”

Rose sat up and looked at him. “I thought we weren’t letting work bleed into personal.”

“That’s what I’m trying to verify. That your opinion of me hasn’t changed because of how I acted.”

Her eyes shuttered a bit and his heart sank. “No, it hasn’t.”

Ian turned his body towards her and took her hands into his. “Rose, listen to me. I will _never_ treat you that way.”

“You didn’t treat me any way. I wasn’t in your path.”

His insides seized up in something like terror. “And I wouldn’t. Ever. Whether you were in my way or not.”

She shook her head. “You can’t promise that. You’re like that every time you get angry and believe me, I’m a frustrating person to be around sometimes.”

“We’re going to have rows, yeah. All couples do. And I very well may lose my temper and shout or whatever. But I promise you, Rose: I will never hurt you. Ever.”

“Words hurt too, Ian.”

He felt lower than dirt. “I know. But I won’t ever mean them.”

“You’ll say them though.”

“I will do my absolute fucking best not to. And if I do, I’ll plead for your forgiveness.”

Rose just watched him for a minute, perhaps gauging his sincerity. She must have found what she was looking for because she leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips. “Alright then.” 

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. I trust you.”

“But...why?”

“Because I don’t have any reason not to.”

“That’s a terrible fucking reason to trust someone.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re complaining?”

Caught out, he stammered, “No, not really. I just -”

“Look, it’s either trust you or give up on the idea of there being an us. I really want there to be an ‘us’, so I’m trusting you. Alright?”

It was his turn to lean in and kiss her. “I don’t deserve you.”

Her tongue came to the corner of her smile. “But you’re stuck with me.”

“You keep saying that. Stuck with you? That's not so bad.”

“I hope not,” she giggled. Her eyes traveled all over his face one more time, her smile faltering. She brought her hand up to his face, caressing him a little, and he only fought the urge to lean into the touch for just a moment before he surrendered. Then she kissed him. 

This was the kiss that Ian had been waiting for all night. All day. Her lips were pillow-soft as they moved against his and he felt the last of his mental and emotional barriers collapse in the face of the tenderness she showed him, leaving him with an intense feeling of gratitude. 

He sought to deepen the kiss, greedily seeking more of her, and she opened to him at once. He took advantage, sending his tongue out into her mouth for sipping little kisses and caressing hers tentatively: caresses she returned. Her hair tickled his cheek so he tucked it behind her ear, then cupped the back of her head to keep her close. He felt as if he might die if he lost contact with her. His hands ached to touch her, to feel her skin, but he refrained, afraid of pushing her too far too fast, of overstepping some boundary she’d set for herself. 

That problem was solved for him, however, when she broke the kiss and whispered, “Touch me, Ian” before she started a trail of soft kisses from his chin to his ear. Ian typically didn't take direction well, but when it came to Rose, all bets were off and the rules didn't apply anymore. He let his hand cup her breast, kneading it through the material of the jumper she wore. She moaned appreciatively and he wanted to taste her pleasure, to catch it on his tongue, so he sought out her mouth again while his hand dropped to the hem of her jumper so he could touch her properly. 

Rose shifted her position, going up onto her knees beside him. He scooted himself down the couch a little, reclining back against the arm, and Rose followed his lead obligingly. He cupped her bum with one hand, kneading it through her jeans just as he’d done her breast, and pulled her down so that she was lying on top of him. It was only when he felt the pressure of her body on his cock that he realized just how achingly hard he was, but there was no time for embarrassment. He was very close to snapping whatever restraint he had after eleven months of dreaming of this very scenario, and all he could do was keep a fingertip grasp on his control, even as she undulated her body against his, providing a little bit of mind-blowing friction against his cock. 

It hadn’t occurred to him when he’d maneuvered to get her on top of him that he’d been giving up control of the situation, but he had. Rose became the aggressor, kissing him with greater fervency, with something he dared to think was intent. He felt her fingers tug at the buttons on his oxford and Ian figured that turnabout was fair play. Grabbing the bottom of her jumper, he started to pull it up towards her head. Rose figured out quickly what he was about and sat up, pulling the jumper over her head and tossing it to the side. She looked down at him from where she was perched, biting her lip as if anxious for some ridiculous reason or another. Ian couldn’t respond; he was too busy staring at her breasts, encased in their satin cups topped with white lace. 

Rose followed his gaze self-consciously, flushing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen tonight, otherwise I’d have put on something sexier.”

He barely recognized his own voice. It sounded strangled. “You don’t think _that_ is sexy?” He cupped them almost protectively, brushing his thumbs across the nipples. 

Her look was positively dripping with sensual promise. “I can do better.”

“Jesus Christ, woman, you may kill me if you do.”

Rose giggled and bent to kiss him. He met her partway, unable to wait, and wrapped his arms around her to bring her body down to him. She began rolling her hips, rubbing her center against his aching cock. His brain sparked and he gasped at the sensation, grabbing her hips to guide her motions. 

“Rose…” he started, rhythmically grinding his pelvis against the heat he could feel through four layers of fabric. She didn’t raise her head from kissing the skin revealed by the v-neck of his vest top. 

“Hmm?”

“This is happening tonight?”

Her smile stretched against his skin, she planted one more kiss to the hollow of his throat, then brought her face up to hover just above his. “Oh, yes, Ian. This is happening tonight.”

There was no way to tell who started it, it could have been either one of them, but they were kissing again with an urgency that was barely restrained, tongues battling and chasing each other while her hands flew in the created space between their bodies, finishing the task of unbuttoning his shirt.

“Bedroom,” Ian gasped when they separated for a moment. 

“Don’t think I can make it,” she answered, tugging up on his vest. 

He stopped her hands, catching her attention and looking her in the eye. “I refuse to let the first time we do this happen on your couch. You deserve better.”

Her mouth claimed his again and he allowed it, welcomed it, even though he stopped her after a minute. “I’m serious, sweetheart.”

She looked at him curiously for a few moments, perhaps gauging just how serious he actually was, perhaps gathering the willpower to change positions, perhaps planning what she’d do once she got there. Ian didn’t really care at the moment, he was near desperate to get to her bedroom so he could see and touch more of her, more of her smooth skin. 

Decision apparently made, Rose clambered off of him and got to her feet. He was right behind her, standing up and crowding her a little even as his hands went to her bum to pull her closer, smirking as he relished the height difference. She seemed to like it, too; she put her hands on his chest and looped them around the back of his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. 

“Bedroom’s this way,” she murmured against his lips when she broke the kiss. He nodded in response, a little shell shocked, and let her step out of his arms. She grabbed his hand, though, and tugged him along behind her; he followed like the willing supplicant he was. 

Her restraint seemed to snap once she had him in her bedroom and she spun around, pressing him against the door and snogging him wildly. He clutched her bum, rolling his hips so that his erection rubbed against her abdomen, and she whimpered. Without any warning she pressed herself out of his grasp and yanked at his vest top. He helped her get it over his head but before he could feel even a little self conscious, she was kissing him again and her hands were on his belt. He reached around to unclasp her bra, ridiculously proud when he got it on the first try, and when her breasts tumbled out he cupped them, fondling them, pinching her nipples a little bit between his thumb and forefinger. It didn’t take long before the desire to taste her overwhelmed him, and he broke the kiss so that he could bend and suck her nipple into his mouth. 

Rose gasped and abandoned her mission to unfasten his belt for a moment, holding the back of his head and scratching her nails along his scalp. Ian wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer, and she made panting little whimpers. 

Entirely too soon, she pushed away from him and went back to his belt, her fingers flying. When she got it loose she unfastened the button and the zip and, without delay, reached into his pants to grasp him. 

A sound that he barely recognized as human, much less his voice, escaped his throat, and he squeezed her breasts unconsciously. Rose made a little mewling sound, a sound of pleasure, he thought. Dimly, with whatever cognition he had left, he realized that she liked it and began to massage them with that firm pressure. Then she began to stroke him, her fist sliding up and down his length, and thoughts fizzled. 

“Rose,” he choked out. “Sweetheart…”

“Yeah?”

“You can’t...I’m not… _Christ_... I’ll come…”

“That’s the point,” she smirked, adding a little twist to the stroke and making him whimper. Then she went on tiptoe and whispered in his ear: “I want you to come for me,” and she nipped his earlobe. 

Her hand still pumped him when he ground out, “Nobody’s… _fuck_ , Rose...Nobody’s touched me like this in...a long fucking time…”

“Is that so?” Her voice was teasing. “Then I’ll bet it’s been even longer since somebody did _this_.”

He didn’t have a chance to ask what ‘this’ was before she dropped to her knees, freeing him and taking him into her mouth. 

Ian shouted and slumped back against the door, his head rocked back and eyes closed while he reveled in the sensation of her mouth on his cock. She still pumped him with her hand where her mouth couldn’t reach and her head bobbed on him. He concentrated on the feel of her tongue as it licked him up and down, then swirled the tip. 

Without permission or conscious thought, his hands fisted in her hair. She hummed around him and his brain shorted out for a minute before he had the presence of mind to ask, “That alright?” She nodded without breaking her rhythm and he let his arms piston up back and forth with the motion of her head. 

It occurred to him - finally - that he wanted to watch this. He really, _really_ wanted to watch this. Raising his head from the door, he looked down and nearly came from the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her mouth. “Fucking Christ,” he breathed, in awe, and she chuckled around him. Then she released her grip on his shaft and - bloody hell, she took him down her throat, her nose and chin touching him. 

He let out a strangled cry and his hands tightened in her hair. She hummed around him again, a ‘mmhmm’ that vibrated him in _all_ the right ways, and he tightened his grip on her hair. He needed it. Frankly, he wasn’t sure how he was still standing. 

After a few deep strokes into her throat, she went back to what she had been doing originally. She replaced her hand, pumping him quickly, and Ian bit his lip to keep from begging. He was not a man who was used to pleading, almost never did it, but he found himself on the verge. She seemed to sense somehow and pulled her mouth off to speak to him. “Let me hear you,” she commanded, looking deep into his eyes. “Don’t hold back, Ian.”

He nodded dumbly and she went back to his cock, swirling the head and laving the underside before sucking the frenulum between her lips. 

“ _Jesus_ , Rose...you’re so...I can’t…” he stammered, barely hanging on. 

“You can’t what?” she asked, falsely innocent. “Do you want me to stop?”

He broke. “Please don’t stop,” he begged, nearly wept. “Please...feels so good, so _fucking_ good…don’t stop...”

Rose grinned and stroked his length a couple more times before she put her mouth back on him and he cried out something that bore no relation to language. 

It was different this time; Rose and her motions were different. She was sucking him harder and faster, slowing down and hollowing her cheeks on every fifth stroke. The rhythm was driving him mad and he felt the pressure at the base of his spine that let him know orgasm was imminent. 

“Rose,” he started, leaning his head back against the door again for support. He closed his eyes, this time to try and concentrate on fighting his orgasm. “Rose, you have to...I’m gonna… _fuck_ I’m close, Rose…”

This seemed to spur her on. Her free hand came up to cup and fondle his balls and he cried out for her again. 

“ _Rose!_ Fuck...I’m gonna come...you’re gonna make me fucking come…”

She pulled off him long enough to speak. “Good. Come for me, Ian. Please…” Then her mouth engulfed him again, returning at once to the rhythm she’d barely abandoned. 

Another thirty seconds and he was on the precipice. “Close, Rose,” he groaned. “ _Jesus fuck_ , so close...gonna…”

She hollowed her cheeks and he shouted again, his orgasm taking him and pulling ecstasy from the very marrow of his bones.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~*~*~ _The Smut Fairy forgot she left her purse and comes back to get it, sprinkles a bit more dust before she leaves._ ~*~*~

Ian slumped back against the door, grateful it was there to hold him up. His breathing came in panting gasps and the tingles of his orgasm still radiated through his body. 

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered to the ceiling, trying to get his bearings. 

He felt a tongue slide along his softening cock and it prompted an aftershock, making his whole body jerk. A feminine giggle came from in front of him and he raised his head to look down at Rose, wiping her chin and grinning like the cat that got the cream. 

“You,” Ian accused her as she got to her feet, his voice still tremulous. “I barely know my fucking name anymore. You just blew my mind.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Did I now?” 

He nodded and she grinned seductively, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing her body against his. Ian closed his eyes against the sensation of her bare breasts grazing his skin, bringing his hands up to intercept them. 

“And how did I do that?” she purred. 

“You know how,” he growled in response, bending to trace his lips along her neck, unsure if he loved this game or was ready to be done with it so he could throw her on her bed. Maybe both. 

“Could you be talking about when I _sucked your cock_ just now?” She stage whispered ‘sucked your cock’, the innocence of her tone belying the filthiness of her words. 

He held her hips a little tighter, then skated his hands back up her sides. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Well, are you _sorry_ I did that?” 

“Shut up,” he commanded, right before his mouth slammed into hers. She welcomed his kiss, arching her back a little to accommodate him and opening her mouth to accept his questing tongue. He could taste himself in her, on her, and it made him wild to claim her fully. 

His trousers and pants were already around his ankles so he just stepped out of them, kicking them away when he was finally clear of them. That done, he attacked the button and zip of Rose’s jeans, determined that there be nothing between them. He left her knickers, deciding he might like to pull those off with his teeth, then broke the kiss to bend down and shove the jeans around her ankles, where she started stepping out of them. Ian did his best to help her, anxious to have her naked. He took the time to kiss his way back up her body, lingering to suckle the breast he wasn’t fondling, taking as much into his mouth as he could. Rose inhaled sharply and he looked up to see her biting her lip, her eyes dark and watching him intently. He closed his eyes and went back to the feast in front of him, his hands roaming her body, her scraping her nails along his scalp. 

He was happily ensconced in the task of suckling her breast when she tugged his hair. He realized, belatedly, that she’d been calling his name. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he answered as he switched from one breast to another. 

“Want you.”

“You’ve got me, Rose,” he promised. 

She tugged his hair again until he looked up at her. “Want you _now_ , Ian.”

He shot to his feet and attacked her mouth again, kissing her with the intent of leaving her utterly mindless. When he pulled away, she looked glassy-eyed and he took a minute to congratulate himself. 

“C’mon,” he said, and slid his hands down the backs of her bare thighs, pulling up. She jumped obediently, wrapping her legs around his waist, and he carried her the few steps to the bed before he tossed her down, crawling over top of her. Rose reached for him and he went willingly into her arms, smoothing his hands over her skin as their bodies rolled a bit. He never stopped kissing her, relishing the feel and taste of her. She pressed against him, looping one leg around his waist and opening herself to him. 

Ian broke the kiss to start trailing his lips and tongue along her jawline and down the column of her throat, wondering where would be the best place to leave his mark, to claim her as his. Rose whimpered, grinding her sodden knickers and the treasure behind them against his leg. He smiled against the underside of her jaw. 

The hand that was massaging her left breast let go and started traveling downward, towards her center. Once there, he stroked along the damp cotton for a minute, earning a whining recitation of his name, before he started tugging on her knickers. 

“These need to go, don’t you think?” he asked conversationally. 

Rose didn’t answer, just pulled his head up and he kissed her, abandoning his quest for a minute. She wiggled and lifted her body so that he could get her knickers off and, once they were gone, he covered her with his hand. She rolled her hips to meet him and he parted her lips with his fingers.

“Christ, Rose, you are _soaked_.”

She nodded, biting her lip and keening. “It’s you, it’s all because of you. Please…”

He slid his finger inside her channel, still marveling at how wet she was and absolutely in awe that he had this effect on her. With an audible pop, he released her breast and made his way back up to her neck, pumping his finger in and out languidly, trying to imagine how her slick heat was going to feel clenched around his cock. His cock that wasn't quite ready for active service yet.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he asked, praying she wouldn’t ask him to fuck her right now. “Anything you want, I’ll do anything. Name it.”

“Please,” she whined. “Please, Ian…”

“Do you like this?” He added a second finger and sped up a tiny amount. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes. Please, more…”

“How about this?” His thumb sought out her clit and started rubbing little circles. Rose moaned in pleasure. 

Ian kissed her for a minute, slow and deep, then trailed kisses down to her ear. He nibbled for a second, enjoying the sound of her harsh breaths, then whispered to her. 

“I’d like to taste you.” She made a sound almost like a sob and he grinned, speeding the actions of his hand up a little and kissing her ear before he spoke again. “May I?”

She responded with a strangled ‘please’ and he set about kissing his way down her body. Frustration flared when he caught sight of his cock, barely at half mast after a good fifteen minutes, but he didn’t have time to be irritated right now. Rose was waiting for him. 

He didn’t let up the motion of his hands, even when he got into position, lying between her legs. For a minute or so, he just watched himself fuck her with his right hand, listening to the whimpers and moans he was earning from her. After a bit, though, his tongue got jealous and he pulled his digits out, licking his fingers and sucking them clean. Rose protested the removal of his fingers, but her complaints quieted when he licked her from her entrance to her clit, where he hardened his tongue into a little point and circled it. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she panted, and it was a sentiment he could get behind. She tasted like heaven; like ambrosia, musk, and heaven, and he knew in that moment that he’d never, ever get tired of tasting her. 

He licked her again, then again, then put his tongue inside her, thrusting it in and out the same way he’d done his fingers, the same way he’d do with his cock soon - if it would cooperate. Surely it must have been long enough by now...?

Focusing his attention where it should be, his tongue started massaging her clit and he put two fingers back inside her to fuck her slowly. She started making increasingly high-pitched noises, rolling her hips, and he was pleased with her response. 

Rose’s breath started coming faster and she began to babble. He caught his name, ‘yes’, ‘God’, ‘more’, and ‘please’ in no particular order, all mixed together. His fingers grew wetter and wetter with her body’s let down of lubrication, preparing her for him later. 

He continued to lick and suckle Rose and his fingers continued to pump. Her exclamations got louder and more high-pitched until she managed to strangle out, “Close...I’m so close, Ian...you’re gonna make me come…”

Ian applied his tongue in earnest, pumping his digits faster and harder. Rose began to squeal and he decided to do everything in his power to give her the best orgasm she’d ever had. His tongue flicked over her clit like lightning and she grabbed a fistful of his hair, keeping him in place. There was no danger of him going anywhere, though; he was a man on a mission. When he curled his fingers within her, he hummed and she exploded, bucking her hips so hard she nearly dislodged him, shouting her pleasure, pulling his hair almost painfully. He didn’t let up, pushing her for more and more until she used her grip on his hair to try and push him away. He chuckled a little, satisfied that he’d done an above average job, and withdrew his fingers, lapping her entrance to make sure he got all of her taste that he could while she shuddered through her aftershocks and he silently vowed to do this again - soon. 

Rose hummed happily and he let his forehead drop to her abdomen in defeat. Now was the moment that he should be making love to her...wild and unrestrained or slow and sweet, he hadn’t decided. He’d wanted to leave absolutely no room for doubt about how much he wanted her. Instead, he was only half hard and ashamed. Humiliated, really, was a better word. Because he wanted this woman desperately - he couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman the way he wanted Rose Tyler - but his stupid fucking anatomy didn’t appear to get the message. 

His jaw clenched and he felt the anger boil inside him. This shouldn’t be a problem! What the hell was wrong with him? The last time he’d been in a relationship going twice, even three times in a night had been no great feat. Had his body changed so much in...well, he didn’t care to think how long it had been. Apparently, in that time, he had gotten old. 

But he couldn’t get angry. He couldn’t afford any display of temper, not after the day he’d had. Less than an hour ago, he’d promised never to do that to her and although his wrath would be self-directed, it would be easy to mistake it as directed somewhere else. He didn’t dare risk it.

So he lay there, taking deep breaths and counting down from a hundred, willing himself to calm down while he did his best to figure out how to explain to Rose - 

“Ian?”

He cringed a little at the sound of his name and his mind raced even faster, trying to come up with an excuse as to why he wasn’t making love to her. 

“Ian, will you come up here?”

There was no way he could deny her anything, he suspected he’d never be able to, so he crawled up her body, planting kisses as he went, enjoying the way she shivered from his lips on her skin. 

“C’mere,” he told her once he was there, lying down on his side and gathering her close. She situated her leg between his and wrapped her arms around him in a warm hug. He was grateful for the opportunity to hide his face. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, once they were settled.

“There’s nothing - “

“Don’t lie to me, Ian, don’t do that,” she interrupted him, leaning away to look at him, her voice stern. He didn’t meet her eyes. “This will never work if you lie to me.”

Properly admonished, he was now reeling to try and figure out what excuse he could give her that wouldn’t be a lie. 

“You’re not very good at hiding your emotions.”

“Not from you, apparently,” he muttered, still not looking at her. Leave it to Rose to be able to read him so accurately when no one else could. 

“Ian…”

“I’m too old for you,” he told her through an odd lump in his throat, deciding on the truth. He stroked her back to feel the softness of her skin, committing it to memory for the inevitable moment when all this was over. 

To his utter astonishment, Rose laughed. “You are not, you daft thing.” 

Ian blinked in disbelief. “I am, Rose,” he insisted. “I really am.”

“How old are you?” 

“Forty-six.”

“You’re not as old as I thought, then.”

He gaped at her. “You’re serious?”

She nodded. “I thought you were ten years older than that.”

Ian wasn’t sure what he thought of that last statement, didn’t have time to analyze it, really, because the overwhelming feeling in the moment was: “What the hell are you doing with me?!”

Rose just laughed and nuzzled back down into his chest. 

“Sweetheart,” he began, dreading what he was about to say. “You’re young and...fucking beautiful. You could have any man you wanted, and you deserve a man that can make love to you all night.”

“What do you think we’ve been doing? Playing cards?” She giggled at her little joke.

“Rose -”

She pulled her head back to look at him, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. 

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” she demanded, incredulous. 

“You deserve better, Rose.”

“I _want_ you.”

“Sweetheart…”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you under the impression that I’m _disappointed_ or something?”

“You should be,” he shot back, just a flicker of his temper shining through. “Right at this very moment, we should be -”

She interrupted him again, this time by kissing him quiet. He resisted for only a moment before he let himself go, focusing on nothing but how incredible she felt in his arms and under his lips. When the kiss gentled, both of them were breathing a little heavily. Rose laid a couple of soft kisses over his face, so tender that he felt his heart lurch. 

“I want _you,_ Ian Docherty. Have done for months. Almost a year. No one else. And I want you just as you are,” she told him in a quiet but fierce voice. “Alright?”

He felt himself sag a little bit with relief. “Rose...sweetheart...there’s nothing that I want _more_ than you.”

She blinked up at him, then her smile was like a light coming on. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And if you give me just a little while, I’m going to prove it. I’m too old for you by a solid decade, but I’m entirely too selfish to let you go.”

Rose lengthened her body and kissed him. “Good. I don’t want to go.”

They lay together for a few minutes, quiet, wrapped in a Gordian knot of limbs, until Rose shivered. He ignored her insistence that she wasn’t cold and reached down to grab the duvet, pulling it over them and retangling himself with her.

“I saw that you told Clara,” she said after a while.

“Oh? How did you see that?”

“She gave me a conspiratorial little smile and I guessed.”

He grinned, then kissed her forehead before he tucked her head under his chin. “Good guess. I did tell her, this morning before shit went sideways.”

“What did she say?”

Getting into the gloomier bits of their conversation, Clara’s prediction of doom, didn’t interest Ian at the moment. So he shrugged, not going into specifics. 

“Mostly she just warned me how dangerous this is. I believe the word she used was ‘reckless’.” 

“Yeah. I suspect we’ll get that from most of the people who find out.”

“She’s right, you know,” he said, unsure why he’d admit such a thing just now.

Rose raised her head to peer at him again. “Do you want to call this whole thing off?”

“No! No, no, no. Fuck no. Of course I don’t.”

“Are you sure? Because you seem hell bent on telling me the myriad reasons we shouldn’t be together. While we’re lying in bed naked. After the most incredible orgasm of my life, I might add.”

He fought down the urge to smirk, getting back to the subject at hand instead. “Yes, I’m sure. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. But Rose, in all seriousness, you have to understand how fucking treacherous this is. Especially for you.” 

“If we get caught, I’m the one that’ll lose everything.” He winced, but she went on, undaunted. “I understand that and accept it. I want this anyway.” 

Ian stared at her, incredulous. “You’re willing to risk everything like that? For me?”

Her answer was quick and decisive. “Yep.”

“I’m not worth it, sweetheart.”

Rose pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Let me be the judge of that.” He opened his mouth to protest and she cut him off. “I’ve come from nothing, Ian. It’s how I grew up. Going back to that life won’t end me the way it would some other people. I’ll claw my way back out, the way I did before.”

He was absolutely in awe of her: of her grit, her determination, her grace, and the unbelievable fact that she wanted him that much. Ian resolved in that moment: he’d keep her, damn the torpedoes, but fuck if he would let anything hurt her because of him.

“I won’t let that happen,” he pledged. “I’ll protect you, Rose. I swear.”

She grinned. “You’re sweet.” He grimaced at the hated word and she tittered before she went on. “The only protection I need from you is a promise to keep all of this quiet, like we’ve talked about. I’m not scared of the trouble, but I’d still like to avoid it.”

“We will,” he assured her, determined to protect her whether she wanted it or not. He had a duty of care - and he cared about her too much to let her be hurt, more deeply than he’d ever cared about anyone before. 

Afraid to examine that last thought more closely, he changed the subject. “Clara made an interesting suggestion.” 

“Oh?”

“Yes. She suggested we change each other’s names in our mobiles to something no one will recognize. That way, if we text or call each other while at work, no one will know it’s actually either of us.”

Rose seemed to consider this for a minute. “That’s a really good idea. What did you set my name as?”

“I haven’t yet. I wanted to talk to you first. What’s your middle name?” he asked, going with the first thing that popped in his head.

“Marion.”

“Marion. I like that. That’s what I’ll use.”

Rose smiled and looked up at him. “What about you? What’s your middle name?”

He grimaced in anticipation. “Quincy.”

Lip quirked in a smile, she said, “Quincy? Your initials are I.Q.?” He nodded and she laughed. 

“Yes, yes. Very funny. Ha fucking ha.”

“No wonder you’re so full of yourself!” she crowed, still laughing. 

Ian rolled his eyes and swallowed her laughter in a kiss. She surrendered right away, her body sliding against his, and he felt the stirrings of arousal. 

_Fucking finally. About goddamn time._

When he broke away, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s not use my middle name.”

“Good call,” she replied, still grinning. “Umm...let me think. Oh, I’ve got it. You can’t have always wanted to be a barrister. What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“A doctor.”

“A doctor?” She considered him for a moment. “I like it. I think I’ll use that.”

Ian wasn’t entirely sold on it for a couple of reasons, but her smile was magnetic. “Yeah?”

Rose nodded. “Yeah. My Doctor.”

He kissed her again, just because he knew he could. _Docherty, you lucky bastard._

Ian finger-combed her hair out of her face when he broke away, smiling a little at this woman who, for some unknown reason, had chosen him, unworthy wretch that he was. As long as she was willing to stay, he’d keep her. And if she wanted to leave, he’d do his damnedest to talk her out of it. 

Her face fell a little for no apparent reason and she looked down at his chest. He furrowed his brow as the corners of her mouth turned down. Before he could ask her what was wrong, she spoke. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, sweetheart.” He rubbed his hand gently over her skin, just for the pleasure of touch. 

“Do you do this a lot?”

Confused, he asked, “Do what a lot?”

“This,” she made a gesture with her hand. “You. Me. Sex. All that.”

“I’m not sure I follow…” he said, his face screwed up in confusion. 

Rose looked as if she were struggling for a minute, then blurted: “Do you have a lot of flings?”

He stiffened, giving her a disbelieving look. “Do I _what_?”

“Do you have a lot of flings?”

Almost angry, he shook his head. “No. I don’t. And this is _not_ -” He stalled out and had to take a second to gather his temper before it got away from him. “ _You_ are not a fucking fling.”

“Amy said -”

“Amy was _wrong_. This is not a fucking fling. Not to me. You’re more than that.”

“But -”

Ian ignored the feel of thin, slippery ice under his feet and plowed ahead. “ _No,_ sweetheart. This isn’t some cheap, throwaway, fuckbuddy-type situation. I’ve told you more than once that I’m not in this for sex: I want more. I’m not trying to get a quick fuck or two out of you; I wouldn’t do that to you, wouldn’t risk you like that. The stakes are too high for us.” Rose started to speak and he cut her off. “ _This is not a fling._ You mean more than that to me, Rose Tyler.”

Rose stared at him for a minute, uncowed by the Storm brewing just behind his eyes, and must have seen what she was looking for. “Thank you,” she whispered, then leaned forward and kissed his bare chest.

He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath, willing away the anger that had just tried to make itself known. “Don’t thank me, precious girl. I’m the one that’s damned lucky here. I should be thanking _you_.” He lowered his head to press kisses along her shoulder and up her neck. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered, just as she had. 

When he got to the little pulse point behind her ear, Rose mewled and ground herself against his bare thigh. His cock stiffened almost immediately and he breathed an internal sigh of relief. Her hand wrapped around him and she began to pump while he nibbled her ear. Within seconds, he was hard as a rock and Rose was swirling precome around his tip. 

“Ian?”

“Hmm?”

“Kiss me.”

He did. And a little while later, their bodies sated and voices hoarse, he lay there with her snuggled against him and thanked whatever gods may be listening for the woman in his arms.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!

_2 January, 2017_

Ian strode into the office in a nearly buoyant mood. He’d had Rose all to himself most of the last five nights, and he’d woken up with her snuggled up next to him - a situation he was convinced he could very quickly get used to. Rose had even gone so far as to suggest that he bring a change of clothes over the holiday weekend. He’d not only brought a pair of jeans when he’d gone back New Year’s Eve, he’d brought a suit for Monday. Rose hadn’t batted an eye. 

He grinned to himself. It was still early days in their relationship, sure. But he knew - he knew with a certainty that went straight down to his bones - that he was meant to be with Rose Tyler. He was usually a very logical man, it was part of his job. There was no logic to this. He couldn’t begin to explain it, he just knew he was happier than he could ever remember being, and it was entirely because of Rose. 

He rounded the corner that took him past the bullpen and toward his office, seeing Rose’s empty desk and smiling. The two of them had decided to stagger their departures so that they didn’t arrive at work together and arouse suspicion. Ian had left her flat this morning while she was still fixing her hair, but not before getting a sweet kiss on his way out the door. 

All was right in Ian Docherty’s world. 

Clara was coming back to her desk from getting coffee, and she stopped when she saw Ian approaching. He smiled at her, bright and cheerful. 

“Good morning, Clara.” 

Smile still plastered on, he opened the door to his office and went inside. He was just sitting his briefcase on his desk when he heard Clara behind him. “You alright, Ian?”

“Of course I am,” he answered, not looking at her when he hung up his coat. “I’m always alright. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He turned around to see her eyeing him skeptically, but she didn’t say anything. Ian didn’t expect that to last. She’d make her opinion known soon enough. 

She surprised him, though, when she spoke. “You have court today at nine, the Saxon case.” 

Ian felt a flash of irritation over the case his expert witness may have ruined. He swallowed it, though, remembering Rose and the way her eyes had shuttered when he apologized for being a prick. For the thousandth time, he vowed to do better. For her. 

“Right.”

“In fact,” Clara went on, “I’m surprised you came to the office at all. I expected you to go straight to court.”

He waved her comment off, not wanting to tell her that he hadn’t come from home. Judging by her shrewd look, he suspected he didn’t have to. 

“Is that all?” he asked, his tone not as gruff as the question demanded. 

“No,” Clara replied, cocking her hip. “I’d intended to email this bit, but since you’re here, I’ll tell you in person. I went through the CVs and applications of everyone who applied to an administrative position in 2016. I picked the most promising ten candidates and conducted phone interviews with them. The three I thought to be the best fit are coming in today at 2:30, 3:15, and 4:00. Here are their CVs, in case you wanted to look over them.”

He took the offered papers and flipped through quickly, skimming but not really taking anything in. Clara had gone above and beyond - as she usually did - and he was pleased. 

“These look good,” he told her. “Well done.”

“Thank you. Court is scheduled to end for the day at the 1:00 recess, so that should give you time to grab a bite and calm down before you meet these candidates.”

“Why would I need to calm down?”

“Because it’s the Saxon case,” Clara said simply. “You’ve had your knickers in a twist over this one for months - and that was _before_ Delobel dropped out.” Another flash of irritation, but Ian tamped it down again. “I figured it would be best for them to meet you when you’re in a mood and weed out the weak ones right off the bat.”

He snorted a laugh. “Right. Good thinking.”

She gave him another look. “Shoot me a text if court is going to go long and I’ll reschedule them.”

“Nah,” Ian said. “I’ll let you know, but if I’m not here, you’re free to hire the one you think is best. I trust your judgement.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Never better. Why?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, then shook her head and went back to the topic at hand. “Standard salary package?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, then. Is that all?”

Ian nodded. “Is that all you have for me?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Go away, Clara.”

~*~O~*~

_3 January, 2017_

Ian paced the floor behind his desk the next morning, his cricket bat on his shoulder in one hand and a deposition in the other. He was doing his best to concentrate on what he was reading but having a hard time, since his blood was boiling. 

He’d thought losing the expert in the Saxon case was the worst that could happen, that the rest of his case was solid. He hadn’t counted on his star witness, Saxon’s own wife, being terrible on the stand. She’d been fine during prep, he’d had no concerns about her. But in the courtroom, sitting next to the judge and with her husband’s eyes on her, she’d been timid and quiet in the _worst_ possible way. The witness had fallen apart and so had his case. He’d dragged it out as long as he could, keeping everyone there well past the planned 1pm recess, but it was no use. 

It was infuriating, humiliating, and the absolute worst of all, a career criminal had walked away. He knew the bastard would jump right back into his life of crime and he’d have another crack at him but this loss...it stung. It felt personal. Ian’s conviction rate was astronomical: he was known throughout the city for being incredibly difficult to win against. Criminals feared knowing that the Oncoming Storm was handling their case. It was a reputation that he appreciated and cultivated. Losses weren’t unheard of - everyone lost sometimes - but they always came as a blow to his ego. He didn’t take blows to his ego well, and his mood was bleak in the wake of this loss.

It hadn’t been improved when he’d tried to convince Rose to come over to his flat the previous night, but she’d had plans with Amy. Realistically, he knew that they couldn’t spend all their time together, that to do so was terribly unhealthy. But he really, _really_ could have used her calming influence last night after he got home. He had hoped to see her this morning, even just a glimpse of her, but she hadn’t gotten to work yet when he came through the bullpen. He’d seriously considered calling her into his office for some phony, bullshit reason just so he could see her, take in her smile, hold her in his arms for just a minute. But doing that would be a massive break of the rules, and Rose would be furious.

As a result, there had been nothing to temper him but his own will and he found himself now pacing his office, clinging to control of his temper as tightly as he clung to his bat, determined not to unleash. He was _going_ to be a better man for Rose or die trying. Just at the moment, he felt like he may die trying. He prayed that nothing would set him off. 

There was a knock on his office door and he caught himself just before he yelled at Clara to come the fuck in. He took two deep breaths and went back to pacing before he called out, “Come.”

The door opened, but Ian didn’t look up from the deposition he was holding. “Clara, I’m going to need -” 

“Sorry, but I’m not Clara.”

Ian looked up at the young man in his office. He was tall with dark hair and skin, a neatly-trimmed beard and moustache, dressed in khakis with an oxford under his winter jacket and a messenger bag slung on one shoulder. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded. 

“My name is Danny, sir. I’m your new personal assistant.”

“You don’t look like a PA, you look like a fucking PE teacher.”

Danny shook his head. “I’m not. I’m a PA.”

Ian looked him up and down, but Danny didn’t flinch. He felt the tiniest bit of grudging respect for him.

“Is this your first administrative job?”

“No.”

“How fast do you type?”

“Ninety-eight words per minute.”

Ian scoffed. “Clara can do one twenty.”

“I’m not Clara,” Danny explained again, “But I’m good at what I do.”

“Where was your other job?”

“My other job?”

“Yes, your other fucking job. Where you were a PA.”

“The military.” 

Ian was brought up short. He hadn’t expected that answer, and wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. He opened his mouth to speak and was cut off.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Clara apologized, dashing into his office. “I’m here…I stepped away to get coffee, but I’m here...” She came to a stop beside Danny, breathing a little heavily, putting one hand on his shoulder. “Ian, this is Danny Pink. Danny, this is Mr. Docherty.”

“We’ve met,” Ian said in a curt tone. “You sure about this one, Clara?”

“He was the best choice,” Clara answered with a hint of steel in her voice; a warning. 

Ian shrugged, raising and lowering his bat with the movement of his shoulder, then he leveled a glare at Danny. 

“I’m not the easiest man to get along with, PE, but if you do as you’re told and don’t give me any fucking problems, you might survive this job.”

“Yes, sir,” Danny answered, and Ian couldn’t decide if he was being mocked or not. For his own sanity and tattered control, he decided to believe he wasn’t. 

“Clara is my right hand and you’ll also be assisting her. If she tells you to do something, it’s as good as an order from me. I don’t care if she tells you to get coffee, make copies, or lick her fucking shoes. If she says it, do it.”

Ian ignored the dirty look Clara was giving him. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“At ease, PE,” Ian said with a roll of his eyes. “Get to work. I’ve got court again on Friday, and I need all hands on deck.” The two of them started towards the door, but Ian called Clara back. “I need you for a minute. Shut the door.”

Clara quietly told Danny to get himself settled at his desk and she’d be out in a moment, then closed the door and came to sit in her chair. 

“Yeah?”

“Where’d you find this one?”

“He applied in August. Honestly, I think he must have been overlooked because -”

“Did you hire him because he’s pretty?”

“What did you say?”

“I asked if you hired PE because he was fucking pretty.”

Clara sat back in her seat with a disbelieving face, an open-mouthed smile. “I can’t believe you would ask me that.”

“Did you?”

“Would you dare ask me that if I’d hired a beautiful woman?”

“If I felt she was underqualified, yeah.”

“Danny is _not_ underqualified! He has the training and experience -”

“And he’s a fucking pretty boy!”

“Interrupt me again and I will detach something from you.”

Ian glared at Clara, and she glared right back. The flashing in her eyes told him that she was serious, and every instinct in him screamed to lash out at her anyway for talking to him in such a way (nevermind how he’d talked to her). But he thought of Rose and the fact that she would hear a screaming row in his office, and he backed down. 

Clara wasn’t done with him, however. “I am not sure who you think you're talking to right now, Ian, but I have never had the slightest interest in pretty young men. Just because my pretty face has turned your head, do not assume that I am so easily distracted.”

He was too angry to argue with her. It could go badly. “Go,” he waved towards the door. “Go train PE. But if he doesn’t fucking work out, things will go back to the way they were a fucking week ago.”

She got to her feet, muttering under her breath, and part of him wanted to demand to know what she was muttering, to poke the bear. But he didn’t, recognizing that’s what he would have done three weeks ago, before he and Rose began a relationship. 

Now his priority was to do his job without being the screaming lunatic that would drive Rose away from him. He could do it. He was sure he could. And while part of him was miserable that he’d upset Clara and knew he’d have to apologize somehow in the near future, another part was proud of himself for not losing his temper. 

Ian picked up his mobile, needing _some_ kind of contact with Rose. 

~ Doctor - _Are you free tonight?_  
~ Marion - _what do you have in mind?_  
~ Doctor - _Dinner?_  
~ Marion - _at mine?_  
~ Doctor - _if you like. I could bring it. What do you want?_  
~ Marion - _whatever you want. I’ll trust you_  
~ Doctor - _That could be dangerous, sweetheart_  
~ Marion - _I’m certain it’s not. will you bring a change of clothes?_  
~ Doctor - _absofuckinglutely_

~*~O~*~

_4 January, 2017_

Ian bounded down the steps of the courthouse, headed for the car park, checking his watch. It was only 5:15, Rose didn’t have her yoga class until six. If he hurried, he might be able to -

“Well, if it isn’t Ian Docherty!”

He turned on his heel to find the owner of the voice that had just called his name, and couldn’t help the quirk of his lips when he saw who was approaching, briefcase in hand. 

“Jack Harkness.” Ian offered his hand. “Fucking miserable to see you.”

“Same to you, old friend,” Jack answered, taking Ian’s hand but no offense. “Long time no see.”

It _had_ been a long time since they had seen each other, Ian realized, nearly a year. He remembered because it was just after Rose came to work for the firm. 

Funny how she had become so integral in his life that he even marked time around her now. 

Ian and Jack had worked together when both were just starting their law careers some twenty-odd years ago as criminal defense counsel, when both were young and idealistic. Jack had never lost his idealism, it seemed, but Ian had become jaded and, as a result, became a prosecutor, leaving his old defense firm to start Stewart, Docherty, and Smith with Alistair and Sarah Jane. It had proven to be the right decision, career-wise, and he felt better about what he was doing for work, but he _did_ miss certain aspects of that job - one of which being his old friend. Obnoxious though he could be.

“How’s the rat-infested world of criminal defense?”

“Still infested,” Jack said jovially. “What about you? How’s criminal prosecution? Still full of bastards and assholes?”

“I’m there, aren’t I?”

Jack laughed. “Seems you are.”

“Look, Jack, I hate to cut this short but -”

“It’s five fifteen, Doc. Work’s done for the day.” 

“Don’t call me Doc,” Ian complained for lack of anything better to say. He certainly couldn't explain why he was anxious to leave.

“You’ll always be Doc to me, no matter what your new friends call you. And from what I hear, you’re still doing the same thing as always - reviving near-dead cases.”

He thought of the Saxon case that had imploded earlier in the week with an inward cringe. “That’s fucking arguable.”

“C’mon,” Jack said. “I need to pick your brain about a case, totally off the record. Let’s go to the Fox and Crow, just like old times. I’ll let you buy me a beer.”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Oh you’ll fucking let me, will you?”

“Of course,” Jack smiled. “I’m a gentleman that way.”

He looked back down at his watch, thinking of Rose. Five twenty. He wouldn’t be able to get to her in time now, anyway. Besides, he was going to her flat after yoga. She’d be all limber then, and -

“Helloooo. Earth to Ian.”

Ian blinked. His mind had wandered - it was doing that more and more lately. He absolutely _had_ to get a hold on himself. _Focus!_

“Sorry, was woolgathering.”

“Anyone I know?”

Jack didn’t flinch when Ian peered at him sharply. “What?”

“I said ‘is it anyone I know’.”

“Is _who_ anyone you know?”

“Whoever has you staring off into space like that.”

He just stared at his old friend and tried not to give anything away, but panic was shooting through him in all directions. If Jack were able to see so easily…

Jack just laughed. “Don’t freak out. I saw the same look on your face last February but didn’t say anything. Thought it was a fluke. Now here it is a year later and you still look like that, maybe even worse. Gonna need you to tell me about her.”

“C’mon.” Ian grabbed his arm and tugged. “Let’s go to the Fox and Crow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know this wasn't the shippiest chapter to drop on Valentine's Day, but it's what was next. Hope you enjoyed!


	11. Chapter 11

The waitress brought the lagers that Ian had ordered and the two barristers talked about Jack’s latest case, a stabbing. Ian offered advice freely, hoping to ingratiate his old friend so Jack would be even _less_ likely to go around talking about how the Oncoming Storm was drifting off in the middle of conversation with a besotted look. 

Not that anyone would believe him, but still.

“That’s what I would do, anyway,” he concluded. 

Jack finished making a couple of notes on the legal pad in front of him. “That’s brilliant, Doc.”

Ian took a sip and sat his lager down, thinking of Rose calling him ‘Doctor’. Jack and Rose were two things he’d rather not get crossed in his mind - or elsewhere. For the sake of his sanity, Rose and Jack should just stay far, far apart.

He brought himself back to the present. “Would you please, for the love of Christ, stop calling me Doc?”

“Never gonna happen,” Jack told him, slipping his legal pad back in his briefcase. Then he sat back in his chair and eyed Ian speculatively. He braced himself. 

“What?” he demanded, cross.

“Who is she?”

“I don’t -”

“Don’t lie to me, Ian. I could always spot when you were lying, even if nobody else could.”

It was true. Jack always seemed to have a knack for reading him that no one else had ever had. Well, no one else until Rose. Yet another reason not to get those two together.

Jack interrupted his thoughts again. “Who is she?”

Ian brought his hands up to his face and rubbed his eyes, then dragged his fingers down his cheeks, stalling for time. This was treacherous ground. Telling someone was risky, but it was even riskier for someone to _suspect_ and start asking their own questions. He didn’t trust anyone with this information, but…

“Her name is Rose,” he began. 

“Rose,” Jack repeated. “Pretty, is she?”

“Fucking gorgeous. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Jack smirked. “You’re gone for this bird already.”

“Have been for nearly a year,” Ian admitted, a little grudgingly. 

“So tell me about her. What’s she do for a living? How’d you meet her? How long has she had you under her thumb?”

Ian laughed. “Fuck you.”

Jack didn’t pay him any attention. “I want to know all that good stuff. Let me live vicariously.”

He snorted. “As if you don’t have a different fucking woman every three days. I’m surprised you haven’t run out of them, the rate you go. London is only so fucking big, you know.”

“Ah, but it’s only a quick train ride to any other city on this island,” Jack grinned. “But we’re not talking about me. I’ve not seen you like this before, not even when you were with -”

“Don’t,” Ian warned, joviality vanished in an instant, a finger levelled at Jack. “She has fucking _nothing_ to do with this, and this is nothing like… _that_.”

“So tell me what _this_ is like, then.”

Ian rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t going to get out of this conversation without spilling everything, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. He could get some perspective from another man, someone he trusted. Maybe Jack would know what the fuck he should be doing with himself. 

“We’re speaking in the absolute strictest of confidence, yeah? Bad shit could happen if this gets out.”

“You work with her,” Jack guessed.

“Off the record?” Ian persisted.

“Of course. It won’t leave this bar.”

“Yeah. I work with her. She’s…” He hesitated a minute, then plowed ahead. “She’s a pupil at the firm.”

“A pupil!” Jack burst out, and Ian hissed at him to shut the fuck up. Jack sat up, leaning forward a little, dropping his voice to a stage whisper. “Did you say she’s a _pupil_?”

“Only for the next two weeks,” Ian defended, as if that were actually a defense.

“Oh, well, that’s a relief,” Jack said sarcastically, leaning back in his chair for a second in a show of exaggerated ease before he sat back up. “What the hell are you doing, Doc?”

“I don’t know!” he retorted. “How the fuck should I know? I’ve never done anything like...this before.”

“You have, too. You were almost _married_ at one point, Doc.”

Ian bristled. “I most certainly was not. She started making noise about fucking marriage and I got the fuck out.”

Jack rolled his eyes at the pedantic answer. “Still, you were in a committed relationship.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledged. “Yeah, I guess you’d call it that.” He took a swig of his lager and set the glass down a little more forcefully than needed. “But I seriously don’t want to fucking talk about her.”

“It’s relevant!” Jack insisted. 

“Relevant to what?”

“To your current situation!”

“Bullshit. How the fuck is it relevant?”

“You said that this thing with the pupil is nothing like what you had with River.”

“It’s not River, it’s Melody. And I told you, her name is Rose, not ‘the pupil’.”

“She prefers River. She always did. But that’s not at all the point.”

“What is your fucking point?” Ian demanded, knowing damned well what Jack was getting at. 

“You were in love with her and willing to marry her.” 

“I _wasn’t_ willing to fucking marry her, if you’ll remember, which is why we split. She was much more fucking serious about…about _us_ than I was. And I certainly wasn’t in love. You can call it what you will, but it wasn’t fucking love.”

“So what makes this so different? Why is this Rose girl unlike River?”

Ian scrambled for a minute, trying to think of a way to describe Rose. “She’s -”

“You _are_ in love with her?” Jack interrupted.

He was brought up short, his heart pounding in his chest. “Excuse me?”

“You weren’t in love with River, but you are in love with Rose?”

Ian couldn’t think; blood was roaring in his ears. He knew he should say something but he had no idea what. He didn’t seem to have words at his command. 

Jack sat back in his chair again, crossing his arms. “So you’re saying you never loved River.”

_There._ Something he could answer. “Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”

“She was just what you were supposed to do. People expected you to settle down, get married, have a couple of kids. It’s what all the partners had done, and you were trying to make partner.”

“Exactly”

“But you took off with Alistair and Sarah Jane to open your own firm, and you were instantly a partner. That was no longer a consideration.”

“Precisely.”

“Besides that, you’re at an age now where you can do whatever you want. Nobody expects you to settle down now. But you’ve jumped into something with this Rose girl anyway.”

“She’s not a girl,” Ian snapped. 

“How old is she, then?”

“Twenty-four.”

Jack barked a laugh. “You’re twice her age!”

He shifted in his seat. “Not...quite.” 

Jack laughed harder. Ian just fumed while Jack chuckled for a minute longer, then Jack took a sip of his beer and sat up. “Alright, I’m done taking the mick. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have ridden you that hard about it. Tell me about her.”

“About Rose?”

“Yeah.”

“Why the fuck should I do that?”

“Because I’m probably the best friend you have, except maybe Clara, and I know good and damn well that you haven’t told anyone else, except maybe Clara. So you need a male’s perspective on this whole thing, and I’m the natural person to talk to.”

“You’re the last person I should take romantic advice from,” Ian scoffed. “Fucking man-whore that you are.”

“That’s the best reason _to_ trust me. I know women well.”

Ian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was a nightmare, but Jack was as good a friend as he’d ever had. He’d take the piss, but Ian could absolutely use the advice. 

_What the hell._

“I have no idea what I’m doing, Jack. I’ve never...nothing has ever been like this before. She’s different, and I’m different when I’m with her.”

“Different how?”

“ _Everything_ is different. I want to be near her all the time. I want to _touch_ her all the time. I _crave_ contact with her. She’s going to some fucking yoga class and I resent the hell out of it because I’d prefer she be with me. Being with her is nothing but a joy. She’s...she’s amazing.”

“‘ _When it gets down to it I hear background music when I see you…_ ’”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. It’s a song. Felt applicable. Go ahead.”

Ian went on. “And that’s not all. I’ve been pulling my punches at work, not giving people the bollockings they would have gotten before. I don’t want her to see me that way. Not now that we’re together.”

“You wouldn’t -”

Ian peered at him for a minute, then figured out what he was saying. “Oh for fuck’s sake, do you honestly think I could do that to her?”

“You did it to River. You two had flaming, screaming rows all the time.”

Ian scoffed. “Not nearly enough. I overlooked so much shit. But Rose is _nothing_ like River. Rose is warmth and comfort. Being with River was an endless fucking struggle to keep something of myself, to keep from being run over by the freight train that was her. But I could never do that to Rose. She’s too...she’s too precious,” he finished somewhat lamely, hoping he wasn’t flushing with embarrassment.

Jack just watched him, his eyes twinkling. “I’ve never heard you wax poetic before, Doc.”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Tell me about how you two met.”

“The partners voted on her as a pupil. Once the vote passed, she was brought into the meeting and introduced. Christ, even then, the first time I saw her, she was the most beautiful fucking thing I’d ever seen. I figured it was just a damn infatuation and would go away, but it got worse. I tried to talk to her for a solid fucking year, but I couldn’t get her alone. I finally got lucky when her car broke down the day before Christmas Eve and I was able to help her out.”

“Got lucky?” Jack asked with raised eyebrow.

“Not like that, you fucking pervert. I was finally able to talk to her.”

“Christmas was only two weeks ago.”

“I’m aware.”

“So you’ve fallen in love with this girl in two weeks? Or were you in love before?”

“Who the fuck says I’m in love now?” Ian challenged, his heart pounding.

Jack narrowed his eyes at him for a second, assessing. “If Rose were to walk out of your flat, never to return, what would you do?”

“I’d run her down and beg her to stay.”

“What did you do when River left?”

Ian squirmed. “I held the door for her.”

Jack looked smug. “See the difference?”

He did, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. “You just pointed out, though, that it’s only been two weeks.”

“But you were pining for her for nearly a year beforehand.”

“So?”

“I’m telling you, Ian, you’re in love.”

Ian slumped against the back of his chair and tried to absorb what he was hearing. He knew he’d never been in love before. He’d known when he was with River that he wasn’t in love then. But was he now? Everything was different with Rose. _Everything_. Was that why he was so absolutely ridiculous over her?

“You zoned out on me there for a minute, pal. You alright?”

“I’m in love with her,” he muttered, staring at the table without seeing it. He felt different as soon as the words left his mouth, as if saying it aloud had spoken it into being. It felt like...relief. Hope. Happiness.

“Either there or falling that way, yeah.”

He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Fucking Christ. What do I _do_ , Jack?”

Jack shrugged. “Do what feels natural. If you want to be with her, be with her. If you want to touch her, touch her. I doubt she’s going to judge you for it.”

No, his Rose would never do that. She was too good, too kind. And now that the word had been introduced, he dared to wonder if she may love him. 

“I want to meet her, though,” Jack said, breaking into his thoughts.

“Not on your fucking life,” Ian said, nearly growled. “You’re not getting within ten goddamn miles of her, you fucking lothario.”

“Hey! When have you ever known me to put the moves on another man’s girl?” Ian squinted at him, and Jack rolled his eyes. “Alright, when have you ever known me to _knowingly_ put the moves on another man’s girl?”

“Fair point. Let me get settled into this whole ‘relationship’ business and we’ll talk about it then.”

“Good enough for me.” Jack reached across the table and Ian took his hand. “Good to see you, friend. And for God’s sake, tell her you love her.”

Ian nodded absently. Yeah, that was something he should probably do. But how would he even go about saying something like that? Should he just blurt it out? No, he liked to think he had a _little_ more finesse than that. Should he try to construct a moment? Should he -

“You’re woolgathering again,” Jack said with a grin.

“Sorry about that.” 

“Don’t be sorry.”

“Good to see you, Jack.”

“You too. Do it again soon?”

“Absolutely.” The two stood up to leave, and Jack started towards the door. “Hey, Jack?” Jack turned around with an expectant look. “Thanks.”

Jack nodded with a smile, then gave Ian a look and pointed at him. “Tell her.”

“I will.”

~*~O~*~

_6 January, 2017_

Ian checked the table for the hundredth time. He wanted - _needed_ everything to be perfect. Rose had never been to his flat; in the almost three weeks they’d been dating, they’d always gone to hers. He was more than a little nervous - and antsy. He hadn’t talked to, touched, or shared anything more than covert looks with her since he left her flat yesterday morning, and he felt like a man starved. She’d be here tonight, he reassured himself. Soon. And he’d be able to look, talk, and touch his fill. 

Not that it could ever be enough. 

Clara had forgiven him after a quiet apology and they had fallen right back into their familiar pattern. She had proven herself invaluable - yet again - by giving him the name of a good florist who supplied him with yellow roses and a good caterer where he could pick up a nice meal. He’d had no clue how to do either of those things, really, but he wanted to be impressive tonight. He hoped it was the first night of many. 

There was a knock at the door and he went to answer it, more than a little jittery. Rose stood on his doorstep, and he was relieved to see a duffel bag on her shoulder. Grinning, he pulled her in by the arm without saying a word and closed the door behind her. Before she could speak, he had her pressed against the staircase, kissing her, grinding himself against her. She responded by dropping her bag to the ground and raising her arms, threading her fingers through his hair, scraping her nails along his scalp. It drove him mad when she did that and what’s more, she knew it. He growled in warning, pulling her even closer, and she smiled against his mouth. 

He released her lips after snogging her for a couple more languid minutes, and let his free hand cup her cheek, his thumb caressing her. The other hand cupped her bum. 

“You’re early,” he accused in a soft voice. 

“Is that a problem?” She finger combed his hair and he shivered. 

“No, no. Not a problem at all. Merely an observation.”

“Good.” Rose stood on tiptoe to plant another kiss on him, but pulled away before he could accost her again the way he wanted. 

“So this is your place?” She stepped away, looking all around his foyer. He felt a smidge of anxiety due to her scrutiny. It was nothing spectacular, he knew; he could have bought a nicer, bigger place, but he couldn’t be bothered with it. What was the point? It had always been just him on his own. But he had had this place professionally decorated when he moved in five years ago, so it was at least decent.

“Yes, this is home,” he said. 

“It’s lovely, Ian. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone that lived somewhere so nice.”

His heart ached a bit. Thinking of his precious girl in the poverty she’d always known was wrenching. He hoped that someday, if she’d have him, he’d be able to give her the kind of life she’d never had, maybe never even dreamed of…

_Wait, where the hell did that come from?_

Thoughts like that had been occurring to him more and more since his talk with Jack and subsequent realization that he was in love with her. It was alarming...and thrilling.

Ian stepped towards her and took her hand, lacing their fingers together. “Would you like me to show you around?” 

She turned to smile at him. “Depends. Will we make it past your bedroom if you do? It’s been a whole day since we made love, after all.”

He grinned wolfishly and leaned forward to kiss her at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “We’d have to come out eventually.” He nibbled her collarbone. “But not for a while.”

Rose put her hand on his chest to push him away, giggling. “You’re just a randy old man.”

“Problem?”

“Nuh-uh.” She shook her head emphatically, then stepped into his space, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her hips to his, grinning seductively. “Just as long as you’re _my_ randy old man. I don’t like to share.”

“You won’t have to,” he assured her, right before his control broke and he slammed his mouth to hers, holding her with one arm around her waist and one hand cupping the back of her head, grinding his hardening cock against her. Rose felt it - there was no way she could have missed it, really - and shimmied herself against him, creating much-desired friction. He groaned, clutching her tighter, and rutted against her. Finally, just when he was considering throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her off to his bedroom like a caveman, a little shred of rational thought presented itself and he broke the kiss. 

“Food,” he gasped. 

She nodded, breathing heavily, her tongue coming out to touch her top lip. “Alright then. Feed me, Mr. Docherty.”

His eyes darkened at the use of his formal name but before he could act on it, he dragged her to the dining room... much like a caveman.

~*~O~*~

Ian sat across from Rose at his table, picking the pears out of his salad. Why anyone would defile something as good and pure as a salad with something so foul as a _pear_ was beyond his comprehension. He was making a valiant effort not to notice Rose eating them happily.

“Why’s there been a bloke hanging around your office all day?”

“Hmm? Oh. That’s the new PA.”

Rose’s eyes widened. “Seriously? You hired a bloke?”

“Clara did,” he answered, stabbing a bit of steak irritably. “I had nothing to do with it.”

She shook her head. “Wow.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe you hired a bloke, is all.”

“I told you, I didn’t. Clara did.”

“I know. I guess I’m just surprised you gave her that kind of authority.”

“I trust Clara implicitly,” he explained. “She makes decisions and signs certain things in my absence all the time. The associates and partners all know that she speaks for me if I’m not available. I’m not sure how I ever got along without her, to be honest.”

Rose gave him an assessing look and he squirmed internally, feeling a bit self-conscious. “What?”

“Should I be jealous?”

He gaped for a second, then his lip quirked up. “You? Jealous of Clara?”

“Yeah.”

Ian burst into laughter. The thought of Rose viewing Clara as a romantic rival… He laughed harder. 

“S’not funny,” she muttered, looking down at her plate moodily. 

Sobering a little, he reached across the table for her hand. “Oh, sweetheart, no. I’m not laughing at you.” She looked up at him from under her lashes, and opened her hand for him. He fought back the laughter he still felt bubbling and grasped her fingers. “It’s just that the thought of Clara as anything other than… _Clara_...” He couldn’t help it, he laughed a bit more. Rose grinned along with him this time. “No, sweetheart, Clara is my right-hand man, nothing more. Never has been. I’m not her boyfriend.”

Rose ducked her head again. “Sorry. Was a bit silly, I suppose.”

“Never be sorry, Rose,” he told her and squeezed her hand. It warmed him, actually, to think that she might have flashes of jealousy. So long as she knew she’d never have cause to be. He let go of her hand so they could finish their meal.

They chatted for the rest of dinner about light topics, nothing of any consequence, then worked together to clean up the dishes (at Rose’s insistence). As soon as that was done, Ian grabbed Rose’s hand and pulled her into the living room, where he promptly dropped into the corner of the couch and pulled her down beside him, tucking her under his arm. Rose went willingly with no more than a giggle. 

It was almost embarrassing, how much he craved the contact with her. It wasn’t sexual (although they’d get to that later), it was just being able to hold her, to touch her after denying himself at work... Her touch was soothing and he wondered if he was saving up the feelings of peace and contentment that holding her, being with her gave him so he could get through all the times at work when she was fifteen feet away but completely out of reach. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, smiling a little when she burrowed deeper into the crook of his arm. “You get your PC on the 27th, right?”

“That’s right. I finish my pupilage the day before, the 26th.”

“Let’s go away,” he urged in a low voice. “Let’s take off for a weekend.”

Rose turned her head to look at him. “You mean a holiday?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. I love to travel, I’m betting you’ll love it, too.”

“Where to?”

Ian shrugged, moving her head a little. “Don’t know. We can go to the airport and pick at random. We can go to Naples - Cardiff even, doesn't matter. Hell, we can use eeny-meeny-miney-moe for all I give a fuck. But think about it, Rose. Forty-eight hours of the two of us, _just_ the two of us. No looking over our shoulders, no worrying about what people think. We can just be...us. Ian and Rose.”

“Ian… we’ve only been dating for a couple of weeks.”

His heart sank, but he did his best not to show it. “Does it matter?”

She seemed to consider him for a moment, and he felt completely untethered, terrified that he may have misjudged her and the entire situation. Then she smiled brightly. “Yeah, alright. Let’s go somewhere for the weekend.”

He channeled the intense joy he felt into a kiss on her forehead. “It’ll be brilliant, sweetheart. You’ll see.”

“I’m sure it will.” She grinned up at him and if he’d had a gun to his head, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from kissing her. What started as an exuberant, firm press of lips against lips quickly morphed into something slower and gentler. Ian kissed her as if she were the most precious thing in his life and, if he were being honest, she absolutely was. She welcomed his kiss, his touch. 

A little bit later, when hair was mussed and clothes disheveled, she suggested he show her around the house after all.


	12. Chapter 12

_11 January, 2017_

Ian strode back into his section of the office after a meeting about an upcoming case, the case’s file held to his chest, tucked under the arm that held a fresh cup of coffee. His phone dinged and he took it out, unlocking it and scrolling for the email. Glancing up when he passed through the bullpen, he spotted Rose and, unable to help himself, his lip quirked and he gave a little wink before turning back to his phone. 

He was just about to turn into his office when he ran into a solid wall of PE the PA. Coffee splashed all over him and the file tucked into his arm. His arm released and the file dropped; the papers that weren’t soaked flew. He looked down at his dripping front; his shirt and tie were soaked, as were his trousers. He ground his teeth and looked up at Danny, who watched Ian with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open, ready to make excuses or apologies. Ian felt the fury of ten thousand suns welling up inside of him. The case file was _ruined_ , his clothes were _soaked_ , and this was going to take a huge chunk out of his day. 

Motion to the right caught his attention, and he spotted Rose. She, like most everyone else, had gotten to her feet to see what the commotion was about. He caught her eye for a heartbeat, just long enough to see the resigned look on her face, as if she were bracing for the worst, and he let out a long breath. 

He couldn’t explode. He just couldn’t. Rose was watching, and he didn’t want her to see him like that. He didn’t want to be the worst of what she knew him to be. He had to remain calm. 

There was no damage, he reminded himself. The file could be printed again - that’s the kind of shit a PA was _for_. His phone had remained dry and thus undamaged, and he had a spare suit in his car that he’d planned to take to Rose’s flat tonight. Really, the biggest inconvenience would be going to his own flat to pick up a clean suit before he went to Rose’s. 

Ian turned back to Danny, who had found his voice and started with the apologies.

“Sir, I’m - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s fine,” Ian cut him off. “Get the file together and repair it, immediately. Put all your other projects on hold until that’s done. Clara?”

She was at his elbow in a second, taking the empty coffee cup without a word then following him into his office. He didn’t say anything until he got to the coat rack behind his desk and pulled his keys out of his jacket pocket. Clara caught them deftly. 

“I’ve got a spare suit in my car. Go get it. Don’t let PE do it, there are a couple things of - just do it, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Are you alright?”

“Of course I'm alright,” he snarked. “I’m dripping in fucking coffee, Clara, do I look alright?”

“Okay, it’s just…you handled that differently than expected.”

“Just go get the fucking suit, yeah? Do as you’re told.”

Clara didn’t argue any further, just took his keys and went. Ian slumped down in his chair, rubbing his forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

~*~O~*~

_13 January, 2017_

“Christ on a seahorse,” Ian swore, pulling his glasses off and tossing them onto one of the multiple files that covered his desk. He leaned his head back, blowing his cheeks out, and trying to gather his thoughts. This Moorhouse case was a clusterfuck and he’d been buried in it all fucking day. He’d remain buried in it, too, until it went to court next Thursday - a date he couldn’t wait for. But more than that, he was counting the minutes until he could leave and go home for the weekend. Rose was coming over and - 

No. If he let himself follow that train of thought, he’d never get anything done today.

_Focus!_

“Clara!” he called. “ _Clara!_ ”

She poked her head into his office. “Yeah?”

“I need the Evans file,” he told her while he ran his hands down his face.

“The what?” 

“The Evans file,” he clarified, pulling his hands away from his face and putting his glasses back on. “Breaking and entering? Ring a bell?”

“You don’t need to get stroppy with me,” she snapped. 

“I need it,” he repeated himself, ignoring her. “Go get it.”

“Who has it?”

“How the fuck should I know? One of the associates. Track the file down and bring it to me.”

Clara started back towards the door. “This is really Danny’s job, you know.”

He took his glasses off again and gave her a hard look. “Then have PE get it. I don’t fucking care how it gets into my hand, I just want it in my hand within the hour.”

“That all?”

“Go away, Clara.”

An hour later, there was no Evans file in his hand and his temper was roiling. It was three o’clock and if he didn’t get the file soon, he’d be forced to work late or worse, work over the weekend. As it was, he was already going to have to text Rose and tell her he’d be a little late. If this went on much longer, he’d be forced to cancel altogether - and the thought didn’t help his already-foul mood.

“ _Clara!_ ”

She came in less than a minute later. “Yeah, boss?”

“The Evans file?”

“Danny was getting it.”

“Well he fucking hasn’t.”

“Danny?” Clara called out, poking her head out of the door to catch PE’s attention. A second later, the young man came into the office. 

“Yes, sir?”

“Where’s the Evans file?”

“Obiefune has it.”

“What the fuck is an Obiefune?”

“ _She_ is one of the associates, Ian,” Clara explained patiently, with a gently admonishing ‘you know that’ quality to her voice. “She was lead counsel on the Evans case.”

“All of that is fine and fucking dandy, but where is the fucking file?”

“Ms. Obiefune left for the day. She had a dentist appointment.”

Ian blinked. “I don’t give a shit where she is. I need the file.”

“She’s out of the office -”

“Fuck that!” he near-shouted. “I don’t care if -” He stopped himself, feeling his temper rising and determined not to lose his cool. He took three slow breaths, then opened his eyes and leveled a cold stare at PE. “Where is Ms. Obiefune’s office?”

Danny told him, then stepped out of the way when Ian got to his feet and started down the hall, fuming. Once he reached the office, he demanded of the PA sitting at the desk, “Where’s Obiefune?”

Had he been less angry, he’d have spared a moment of pity for the poor PA that was looking up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “She’s - she’s gone to the dentist, Mr. Docherty.”

“I need a file from her.”

“She’s at the -”

“I know she’s at the fucking dentist, you just told me, didn’t you?” he snapped, then forced himself to count to five. “You’re her PA. Find the Evans file and give it to me.”

“Ms. Obiefune has that file with her, sir.”

Ian’s jaw and fists clenched. He closed his eyes and gave a little shake of his head. He couldn’t let go, he couldn’t unleash. Just because Rose couldn’t see him didn’t make it okay... although it made it considerably more tempting. 

But this woman wasn’t to blame. She was simply doing her job. It was her fucking boss Ian wanted a piece of.

Through clenched teeth, he spoke in a low, deadly calm voice. “I don’t care if Ms. Obiefune is in the dentist’s chair. I don’t care if she’s numb and fucking drooling from one side. I don’t care if she had every tooth yanked out of her fucking head. You tell her that _I_ said she needs to bring her arse _and_ the Evans file back to this office _immediately_.”

The PA nodded and reached to pick up the phone. “Yes, sir. She’ll be back soon.”

“You see that she is,” Ian spat before he turned on his heel and went back to his office. 

There. He hadn’t lost his temper. He’d remained perfectly calm. He’d sworn a bit, but he hadn’t even gotten shouty, as Rose called it. Good. Much improvement. Fucking character development. 

He stomped back to his office, wondering just how much of this absolute clusterfuck he could pawn off on someone else so he could still see Rose tonight.

~*~O~*~

_16 January, 2017_

Ian’s mood at work in the days leading up to the Moorhouse case had been declining rapidly. The idiot had been caught red-handed, so there should have been minimal concern about winning the case. He wasn’t, not really, but Moorhouse’s barrister had been saber rattling, indicating that he had some sort of trump card up his sleeve. It made Ian anxious, and he felt the need to be absolutely prepared, to have his case as airtight as reasonably possible. He’d already lost one this month. That recovery had been fairly easy, in large part due to Rose. A second loss wouldn’t be as easily dismissed, and he couldn’t risk it. One loss was more than enough to last him until June. 

Worse, Rose had texted him and told him that she couldn’t see him that night. He knew he was going to have to work late tomorrow and Rose wasn’t usually available on Wednesdays, so that meant it would be Thursday evening before he got to spend time with her. 

He’d only been at work for a couple of hours when he realized he needed to speak with Sarah Jane. He got to his feet and dropped some work off on PE’s desk, starting towards Sarah Jane’s office. Once there, he opened the door and went right in…

...And ran right into Rose. 

Automatically, his hands flew out to catch her and she instinctively grabbed his arm to steady herself. She didn’t look up at him, but he could see the flush creeping across the the part of her chest left exposed by the jumper she wore. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently, biting back the ‘sweetheart’ that nearly escaped at the last possible second.

Rose nodded, still not looking up at him, and it occurred to him that he could let her go now. Fighting the instinct to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she was fucking senseless, he released his grip on her. 

“Thank you, Rose,” Sarah Jane said, reminding Ian that she was there. 

“Thank you, Sarah Jane,” Rose replied, then exited quickly. Ian watched her every step intently, taking in the sight in her in the professional attire he never really got to see in the evenings or on the weekends. Her tan pencil skirt clung to her legs, stopping above her knees which were bare until his favorite of her high-heel boots started. He’d seen that jumper before, too, he realized, although he had to admit that he liked it much better hanging off the foot of his bed. But dressed like this...he felt his lip quirk up as he made a mental note of every filthy thing he was going to do to her in his study over his desk when he talked her into wearing that outfit to his flat one night. His cock twitched at the thought. 

He blinked when she was gone and turned to Sarah Jane, stuffing his hands in his pockets to hide his arousal and trying to remember why he had come in. His partner was giving him a speculative look. 

“What?”

“You were just nice to her.”

Heart slamming in his chest, he went for nonchalant. “And?”

“You’re never nice to anyone.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “That’s not true. Ask Clara.”

“Clara has been with you for five years, and you’re still an arse to her, for all that you obviously care about her. But Rose… you’ve never spoken to my pupil.”

_Oh, if you only knew the things I’ve done to your pupil._

“I ran into her,” Ian explained. “No reason to berate the poor thing when it was my fault.”

Sarah Jane gave him a disbelieving look, but didn’t challenge him further. She just shook her head. “What did you need, Ian?”

The two of them discussed the Moorhouse case for a few minutes, then when Ian had the information he wanted, he started back toward his office.

~*~O~*~

_17 January, 2017_

The hostess escorted the three women to a table, leaving menus and assuring them the waiter would be with them soon. They thanked her and settled into their seats, taking off their coats and unwinding their scarves. 

“I’m so glad you came with us, Clara,” Rose said to start the conversation. Amy nodded with a smile. 

“Thank you for inviting me!”

“I haven’t ever eaten here before, have either of you?” 

The three of them chatted lightly about this and that until the server came and brought waters, taking their orders before she left. When she was gone, they went back to chatting. 

“So!” Clara said. “I need to thank you, Rose.”

She had an idea where Clara was going, but asked anyway. “What for?”

“Ian has been in a better mood over the last month than I’ve ever seen him. Well, the last couple of days notwithstanding.”

“How is that related to me?” Rose asked, flushing. Clara just gave her a look that clearly said, ‘oh, please.’

Amy leaned forward a bit. “Clara, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Did Mr. Docherty _really_ buy Rose’s secret Santa gift?”

Rose made an indignant little sound. “I told you he did!”

“Hush. I’m asking Clara.”

Clara grinned while Rose fumed. “He really did.”

Rose put her tongue out at Amy, who ignored her and kept her eyes on Clara. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Clara nodded. “I found the receipt on the printer an hour after he bought them. He’s lucky he printed it to his office and I found it when he forgot about it. He could have blown everything if he’d printed it out to the bullpen and someone else found it.”

Rose swallowed. That really had been a lucky break. 

Amy leaned back in her chair, looking almost stunned. “Blimey.”

“I told you!” 

She was ignored. “But...why?”

“Oh, he’s had a crush on her almost from the moment she walked in the door.”

“Really?” asked a flushing Rose. 

Clara nodded. “Really. He’d never have admitted it, but after you spend enough time around him, he becomes pretty easy to read.” She took a sip of her water. “Speaking of easy to read, where’d he come up with ‘Marion’?”

“Oh, so you figured out that was me, huh?”

“Wasn’t hard,” Clara shrugged. “He gets emails all the time, but you’re the only person he ever texts, besides me.”

Rose felt another flare of jealousy, but tamped it down. She believed Ian completely. He said there was nothing there, so there was nothing there. Of course he’d text his ‘right hand man’. 

Clara went on, “And I’ve never seen him on his phone as much as now. So is Marion for Maid Marian?”

Rose shook her head. “No, it’s my middle name.”

“Too bad,” Clara said. “I love Robin Hood stories.”

Her mobile dinged its tinkling little text notification. Her face reddened a bit at Amy and Clara’s smug looks when she pulled it out, swiping the screen to open it. 

~ Doctor - _Having fun?_

“Doctor,” Amy scoffed, looking over her shoulder. “More like Dr. Jekyll.”

Rose gave her a nasty look. “Behave.”

“You be _fair_ ,” Amy retorted. “It’s exactly like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He’s an arsehole at work, nobody says any differently. But you claim he’s some Prince Charming when it’s just the two of you.”

She fought down the memory of how he’d reacted to being called ‘Prince Charming’, narrowing her eyes at her best friend instead. “He is!”

Amy crossed her arms. “You’ll never convince me of that.”

Rose opened her mouth to retort, but Clara cut her off, mediating neatly. 

“Where did ‘Doctor’ come from?”

“It’s what he wanted to be when he grew up,” Rose explained, glaring at Amy one more time then tapping out a response to Ian. 

~ Marion - _talking about you_

“Why not _his_ middle name?”

Rose looked up sharply at Clara. “You don’t know it?”

She shook her head. “He always just signs things ‘Ian Docherty’ or sometimes ‘I. Docherty.’ Never a middle initial.”

“He hates it,” Rose explained, happy to know something Clara didn’t and feeling a bit petty. “So we went with something else.”

Her phone dinged again:

~ Doctor - _might have fucking known_  
~ Marion - _calm down. it’s all good things_  
~ Doctor - _you’re going to ruin my fucking reputation_  
~ Marion - _with these two, probably. but no one else, promise_  
~ Doctor - _let’s hope not_

She lay the phone down and joined the conversation, listening politely to Amy telling a story about her husband, Rory, and what a picky eater he was: so picky that they had had a difficult time picking out the wedding menu. The three women were laughing when the waitress brought their food, but they quickly tucked in. 

“What are your plans for the weekend?” Amy asked, then held up a hand. “Let me guess. _Ian_.”

Clara laughed, but Rose rolled her eyes. “We’ll be getting together this weekend, yes. Wisearse.”

“Would you two like to go to a show?” Clara asked, sounding enthusiastic and excited. It was catching, and Rose grinned.

“What kind of show?”

“It’s a band,” she explained. “I’ve seen them a couple of times before, they’re really good. The drummer fancies me, I think. I bet I could get us backstage.”

“Oooh,” Amy started, and Rose repressed the urge to roll her eyes. She knew where the conversation was going. “I used to have the biggest crush on a bass player. Never did anything about it, but sometimes I wish I had. Just for fun, you know? Rory is wonderful and I love him more than my next breath, but there’s just something about a musician. Know what I mean? They always seem a bit...reckless.”

Rose concentrated her attention on her chips and trying not to flush. She failed. 

“You alright, Rose?” Clara asked. 

She nodded, still not meeting their eyes. “Fine, I’m fine.”

Amy narrowed her eyes for a second then burst out laughing “Don’t tell me Mr. Docherty is a musician!” Rose flushed deeper while she and Clara laughed. 

“I’ve never heard him play,” she said almost defiantly, “but yes, he is. He’s got a couple of guitars and an amplifier set up in his study.”

The other women weren’t laughing now, they were gaping. “You’re making that up.”

“I am not!” she insisted. “Why do you always assume I’m making everything up about Ian?”

“It’s just so unlikely!” Amy exclaimed, then slumped back in her chair. “Blimey.”

“Do you know…” Clara began, a thoughtful look on her face. “I found a guitar pick on the floor of his office one time a couple of years ago. I thought one of the housekeeping staff had dropped it, not Ian. Never Ian.”

“It was probably Ian,” Rose confirmed. “He was in a band in uni.”

“Blimey,” Clara marveled, sitting back in her chair the same way Amy had a couple of minutes before. “I’m learning all kinds of things about him today. Does he still play?”

“He plays to relax. That’s why he keeps it in his study. When he gets too wound up, he can play for a little while. It’s grounding for him, like his cricket bat.”

“Now, that I _did_ know,” Clara sounded almost proud of herself. Rose nodded.

“So the legend about the cricket bat is true?” Amy asked, looking back and forth between the other two women. 

“It’s not a weapon like people believe,” Clara rushed to her boss’ defense. 

“Although he doesn’t exactly mind people believing that.” Rose smirked. Her mad Scotsman with a bat.

Clara shot her a conspiratorial grin then looked over at Amy. “He says it helps him think.”

Amy looked to Rose, who nodded. “It’s true.”

“Well,” she said, putting her hands on the table. “There seems to be more to my boss than shouting and swearing.”

Rose bristled, but tried not to let Amy’s words rile her. “But this is all in the strictest confidence, remember?”

“I remember,” Amy said, then she snorted and picked up a chip. “No one would believe me, anyway.”

~*~O~*~

_19 January, 2017_

Rose walked back to her desk from the copy room, grateful there was only a week left of her pupilage. She was quite ready to be done with this last part of her training and move on to being a fully-trained solicitor and eventually, barrister. She’d been working to get to this point as long as she could remember, and now she was a week away from it paying off. As was traditional, she had next Friday off to go to the courthouse and get her PC. Ian had told her that after he finished up that day, he’d be coming back to his flat and the two of them would take off to...somewhere. Rose had barely ever left London, so even Cardiff would be new and exotic to her, but she got the impression that Ian wanted to impress her. She wasn’t about to argue. 

_Ian._ Rose sighed and smiled to herself. She still had a hard time believing that after nearly a year of wanting and wishing and daydreaming and being utterly convinced that it would never, ever happen, he was hers. She never would have thought it possible to be _this_ happy, but she was. Over the last four weeks, he had proven to be everything she believed he was, and more. But best of all - he was _hers_. 

She got back to her desk and slid into her chair, opening the file she’d just retrieved. Ian walked by the bullpen, growling expletives at the mobile in his hand, but as had become his custom, he looked over long enough to give her the smallest of winks then back down at his mobile. It took everything in her not to chase after him and tackle him to the ground. They hadn’t had a moment alone together since Tuesday morning when she’d left his flat for work. It was Thursday and Ian had been coming to hers on Thursdays, so she knew she’d see him tonight, but the texts they’d been exchanging just weren’t enough for Rose. She needed to see him, to be able to touch him, to talk to him. She needed to see his smile and feel him hold her. 

She needed Ian, not Mr. Docherty. 

“So,” Amy started, breaking into Rose’s thoughts. “What are we doing next weekend to celebrate?”

“Celebrate?”

“Yes, celebrating you getting your PC. That’s a big deal! A girls’ night must be had,” Amy said. “Friday night or Saturday? Which is better?” 

“I...um...I’m going out of town.” 

Amy stared at her for a second. “With the Doctor?”

Rose nodded. “He wanted to take me out of town to celebrate and, well, I’ve never travelled...so…”

“It’s fine.” Amy brushed off Rose’s excuse. “No problem at all. What about Thursday?”

She thought of Ian and the way his face would fall when he found out he wouldn’t have her to himself that night. He’d not be pleased about the interruption to the little routine they’d settled into, but she figured he’d understand, even if he pouted a little. She smiled affectionately before she shook her head. 

“Yeah, no, Thursday should be fine.”

Amy gave her a shrewd look. “You sure the Doctor will be willing to spare you?”

“Yes. We’ll be spending the whole weekend together. He’ll be fine. Who all are you talking about inviting?”

“I was thinking you, me, Clara, Donna, Jenny and Vastra, and anyone else you’d like to bring along.”

“I might ask my mate, Martha. She’s a doctor, though, so she’ll be left out if we start talking shop.”

“We’ll behave,” Amy promised. 

The sound of Ian’s voice started in his office. He sounded angry, borderline furious, but the shouting stopped abruptly, midstream. Rose furrowed her brow. He’d been doing that a lot lately - cutting himself off before he built up too much of a head of steam. She wondered about it, but had a suspicion that it all came back to her, somehow, and she wasn’t eager to bring it up with him.

She caught Amy watching her out of the corner of her eye, and before she could say anything, Amy had gotten to her feet and was dragging Rose down the hall by the hand. She poked her red head inside the break room, looked around, then pulled Rose in behind her, shutting the door.

“Amy, what the hell -”

“People are starting to suspect,” Amy said in a low, urgent voice, and terror clenched Rose’s heart. 

She stammered. “Sus...suspect what?”

“Mr. Docherty hasn’t been himself for the last few weeks. He doesn’t shout anymore: it’s like he’s afraid of getting loud. People are wondering what’s brought about that kind of change.”

“What are their theories?”

“Some say it’s a New Year’s resolution. Others say he’s losing his touch.” Rose’s stomach swooped and Amy hesitated. “And some people are saying that he’s got himself a girlfriend, and having sex on the regular agrees with him.” 

Rose paled. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Do they say who -”

Amy shook her head. “No. No one seems to be able to figure out who she is, although I heard one person mention that the only time he ever smiles is when he gets messages from someone called ‘Marion’.” 

“My contact name,” Rose almost squeaked. 

“I know.”

“I have to have a talk with him.”

“And say what?” Amy’s brows furrowed. “Tell him he has to go back to being a jerk?”

“I don’t know!” she fairly shouted, then calmed herself with a deep breath. “I don’t know. But if people are starting to suspect…”

“You _can't_ be thinking of telling him to go back to the way he was. Tell me you’re not, Rose.”

“I can’t let people go on believing what they’re believing now!”

“Rose,” Amy tried, “things have been so _peaceful_ without his temper. Don’t make him -“

“I have to, Amy! My career is on the line!”

Amy sighed, rubbing her forehead. “You’re right. Go ahead, do what you have to do. It won’t be so bad, I guess. Just going back to normal.”

Rose stepped forward and hugged her best friend. “Thanks, Amy. For telling me and for being such an amazing friend.” 

“You’re welcome. When can we expect the Oncoming Storm back?”

“He comes to mine on Thursdays. We’ll have a talk tonight.”

Amy laughed, and Rose asked her what was so funny. “Just the thought of you telling Mr. Docherty what to do.”

“It’s not like I’m bossing him around or anything,” Rose defended. 

“I’m not saying you are. Just be careful. I’ll pray for you,” she said, and though her tone was playful, Rose could tell that she was only half-joking.

She rolled her eyes. “I honestly don’t know how many times I have to tell you, he’s not like that at home. Only when we’re here.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“No, one of these days, we’ll do dinner with you and Rory. You can see for yourself then.”

“And how are you going to do that when you’re doing everything you can to keep your secret?”

Rose was brought up short. She had no idea how they could all go to dinner, it was a damned good question. One she didn’t have an answer for. 

“I finish my pupilage a week from today. Things will be better after that. They’ll be different.”

“No, they won’t, Rose,” Amy said sadly. “And you know it.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~*~*~ _The Smut Fairy flies in, takes a look around, and coats the chapter with Smut Dust!_ ~*~*~

Ian bounded up the stairs to Rose’s flat, bag on his shoulder. Two-and-a-half days. The two-and-a-fucking-half miserably long days since he’d been able to talk to her, hold her or even touch her were over. He wasn’t really sure he’d be able to go this long again. He knew without any doubt he didn’t want to. He spared only a thought to wonder when he’d become so utterly addicted.

Rose had opened the door when she buzzed him in and left it cracked for him, as had become her custom. As had become _his_ custom, he pushed the door open, dropped his bag just inside, lay his coat across the back of a chair then turned and shut the door behind him, locking it. 

There was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen and he followed his nose to find Rose standing at the counter with her back to him. She was doing something, he couldn’t tell what, and he took a minute to lean against the doorjamb and just watch her. 

She’d changed into leggings and an oversized jumper when she got home, and had pulled her hair into a loose bun. Wisps of hair escaped and fell around her neck and face. He had the urge to move that hair out of the way and kiss her neck, to taste her skin. It only took a second before it occurred to him that they were in her flat, there was no one there to hide from, and she’d welcome his touch. That last bit still mystified him, but Ian wasn’t about to question a miracle. He would just count his blessings and kiss his girl, thanks ever so. 

With that in mind, he stepped up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist at the same time he nosed one of her tendrils of hair aside and pressed his lips to the soft skin of her neck. Rose covered his hands with hers and leaned her head back against his shoulder, angling for a kiss. Ian was more than happy to oblige; he’d give her whatever she wanted, a kiss was a pleasure. When he broke the kiss he didn’t let go, just held her against him where she belonged. 

“Hi there,” she greeted him with a smile.

Ian smiled down at her, joy flooding him. “Hello.”

“You’re late.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Alistair needed me.”

“Everything alright?”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Everything’s fine, sweetheart. Just conferring about a witness.”

She smiled at him, one of those full-wattage smiles that he could never get enough of and as always, he felt his joints go a little weak. 

“Good,” she said, then turned back to the task he’d interrupted. Ian lay his chin on her shoulder, watching what she was doing, not letting go of her. 

“You’re making dinner?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, still working. “Soup. My mum’s recipe.”

“Why soup?”

“It’s tradition,” she explained, a smile in her voice. “Mum always made soup when it snowed.”

Ian tilted his head to the side. “It’s supposed to snow?”

She shook her head a little, and he could practically see her rolling her eyes. “I thought you watched the news?”

“Sports and politics. I usually go get a drink while they’re doing the weather.”

Rose giggled a little. “Yes, we’re supposed to get a big snowstorm overnight.”

He swayed her a little, nuzzling her. “Maybe we’ll get snowed in.”

“Maybe so.”

Neither of them said anything for a minute. He didn’t relinquish his hold on her, and she went on about her business, comfortable in his arms. Where she belonged. He squeezed her lightly around the middle. 

“So, soup, eh?”

“Yeah. We always order in, you know? And that’s not healthy. I’ve gained two pounds!”

The smell of her was intoxicating and he felt his need for her growing, his patience wearing thin. He started pressing kisses to her neck, speaking against her skin. “If you think you look anything other than completely gorgeous, I’ll be forced to leave. I can’t be associated with a crazy woman.”

Rose giggled, tilting her head to one side so he had more space available to kiss. “You’re already associated with a crazy woman.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’d have to be barmy. I’m dating you, aren’t I?”

His head snapped up. “Oi!” She just giggled more and he grinned at the sound. She was happy. It was all he ever wanted. But he couldn't let something like that go without _some_ kind of complaint. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you, Ms. Tyler?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

He chuckled just before he caught her mouth in a kiss. She parted her lips and he sent his tongue looking for hers, meeting it and caressing it. Rose brought her hand up to rest at the back of his head, flexing her fingers a little, letting her fingertips thread through his short hair. Ian's hands went on a wander, first one drifting up to cup her breast through her jumper, then his other hand sliding down to the junction of her thighs to stroke her. She moved her hips a little in invitation and acceptance, and he smiled a little.

“Come to bed with me.” It wasn’t a question and it wasn’t quite an order. It was a request from a man who was used to getting what he wanted. 

“Ian,” Rose whined a little, and he caught her mouth again, sensing her protest. The intensity of his hands increased and she keened: the heat between her legs grew as she became more aroused, and he was thrilled and humbled by the knowledge that he was the one to get her that way. 

They were both breathing heavily when he broke the kiss again. “Come to bed with me, Rose.”

“Ian, we have to talk.”

“Later,” he urged her, ignoring the sliver of panic that raced up his spine at her words and running his mouth down her throat, planting open-mouth kisses every few words. “Later we’ll have soup and talk and watch it snow and do anything else your heart desires. Right now, I need you.”

He saw her smile, closing her eyes against the stroking of his hand, and she rubbed her bum against his hard cock. “It’s only been two days, Ian.”

“Two-and-a-half days, thank you. And that’s too long; I’m about to burst. Please, Rose, I’ve been going spare.” 

Rose leaned to the right, shut off the cooker, then spun in the circle of his arms so that she was facing him. She looped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a snog, pressed her hips against him and thank _Christ_ for the friction against his _raging_ knob on. Ian dropped his hands to her bum, clutching it, pulling her as close to him as he could get her, then skating his hands up her sides to get to her breasts, rucking up her sweater on his forearms. He took one breast in each hand, squeezing with the firm pressure she liked, enjoying the way she moaned into his mouth. Thumbs slid across nipples, making Rose shiver, then Ian decided this would be much more fun if her bra was gone. 

He reached around her back, unclasped it on the second try, then brought his hands back around to slip under her loosened cups and pinch her nipples a little. Rose broke the kiss with a gasp, bit her lip and groaned. Ian was learning her responses, learning how to read her, and he knew that this reaction meant she was pleased with what he was doing. Being the slave to her happiness that he was, he kept up the massaging and pinching while peppering her face with kisses and grinding his hips against her, seeking more friction for himself. 

She pushed him away suddenly and he stared at her, breathing heavily and unsure what he’d done wrong. Her hand came out to grab his tie, her tongue curled around her teeth, and the confusion melted.

“Bedroom’s this way,” she purred, turning so that her back was to the door and slowly walking backwards towards her room. He followed the tug of his tie down the hallway, grinning, reaching out for her hips. 

As soon as they entered the door to her bedroom she let go of his tie and backed away, eyes staring into his, lip between her teeth, pulling her clothes off slowly and seductively. Ian just watched with avid interest from under hooded eyes as her jumper got tossed to the side carelessly and she shimmied out of her leggings, exposing herself to him inch by delicious inch. She left the knickers because just as he was learning her, she was learning him, and she knew by now that he rather liked to take those off himself. His mouth fairly watered at the sight of her bent over, arse in the air, pulling the leggings off of her feet. 

Spurred into action, he was suddenly stripping off clothes, too, as fast as he could go. His tie was cast aside, God only knew where. He didn’t care to watch it fall, was much more interested in the show in front of him and unbuttoning his oxford. He toed off his shoes and socks, still fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. Rose turned around just then - his golden goddess, nearly naked - and swayed her hips when she took the two steps towards him, smirking. 

“Looks like you’re having a hard time, huh?”

He abandoned his shirt and grabbed her, kissing her, claiming her with his mouth, doing his best to rein in the urges that were driving him. She abandoned herself to him and his kiss. He felt his restraint - already pulled taut - wavering. They were both panting when they parted. 

“Oh, I’m about to give _you_ a hard time, Rose Tyler,” he said, illustrating just what he meant with a grind of his hips.

She grinned seductively, standing on tiptoe and bringing her mouth close to his ear. “I love the way you say my name,” she breathed, just before she took his earlobe into her mouth and nibbled. His eyes rolled back in his head and he clenched her hips hard, a little afraid that he may be leaving bruises. From Rose’s smile against the skin of his neck above his collar, he didn’t think she cared overmuch. 

He felt her hands at his belt buckle, unfastening it, and it brought him back to what he had been doing. Deciding he’d fucked around enough and he needed to be inside her _now_ , he grabbed both his shirt and vest and pulled them over his head in one go. 

It was at that moment that Rose reached into his pants and grasped him, prompting a moan. Her free hand kept working on pulling down his trousers and pants until they fell around his ankles. He stepped out of them and kicked them away while she stroked his cock then, in a surprise move, bent to take him into her mouth. 

He cried out, incoherent, overwhelmed by how good her mouth felt around him. His hands came up to her hair automatically and he grasped it. 

“Rose.” He struggled to maintain control of himself, control of his thoughts. “Rose, sweetheart…”

She pulled off with a wet popping sound but kept stroking him. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want to come this way, sweetheart. I want to - _Christ_ ,” he interrupted himself when she twisted her wrist. “I want to be inside you when I come. Please.”

“Wasn’t gonna make you come like this,” she assured him. “I just wanted to taste you.” Before he could respond, she had her mouth around him again, bobbing and swirling her tongue around his tip. He let her go until he felt himself starting to get close, then he gently tugged her hair to get her attention. 

“Bed. Now.”

Rose lay one more gentle kiss to the head of his cock, then got to her feet and dashed to the bed, giggling, escaping his grasp. He growled a little in mock frustration while she posed on the bed, arranging herself just so. He played along, letting her settle into her seductive position, until she was lying in the middle of the bed, propped on her elbows, one knee raised. She grinned at him, her tongue coming out to the corner of her mouth, and he stalked towards her.

“Look at you,” he started, crawling onto her bed with her. “Laid out like the most mouth-watering feast. I think I need to taste you.”

She barely got a sound out before he’d taken her nipple into his mouth, sucking it, worrying it with his teeth, pulling it between his lips. He felt Rose’s hands thread through his hair, holding him close, while she arched her back to give him more. He slid his hand down her abdomen toward her knickers, slipping his hand inside. 

“Ian,” she whimpered, and he parted her lips to gather moisture. She rolled her hips against the pressure of his hand and he responded, sliding one finger down to her entrance, circling it.

“Ian, please.” He grinned around the nipple between his teeth and put his thumb into position over her clit. In one smooth motion, he slid two fingers inside her at the same time he began to massage her with his thumb. 

“Ian!” she squealed, and his only response was to change breasts, laving her areola, keeping up the pumping and stroking of his hand. 

Rose began to make various sounds; whimpers and groans and other little noises that told Ian he was on the right track. When she started babbling, he slowed the motion of his hand long enough to add a third finger to simulate his girth, carefully working it inside her and earning a moan from Rose. He sped back up, circling her clit, eliciting high-pitched squeals from her.

“Ian…”

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

“I want...I want you…”

“You’ve got me. All of me. Come, Rose.”

She whined, “I’m close...want you to fuck me.”

“I’m going to,” he promised. “Come for me, then I’ll fuck you. I swear.”

Her whimpers got louder and more intense, and he continued to work her with his hand until he carefully and deliberately pressed his thumb against her clit, sending her flying apart right in front of him. 

Ian stroked her through her orgasm, backing off when she started to recoil. Then he extracted his fingers, sucked them clean of her juices, and pulled her knickers down and away before he crawled up and hovered over her. Unable to resist, he lowered himself to kiss her bee-stung lips, using one hand to line himself up with her entrance and settling onto his elbows. 

“Are you ready?” he whispered, praying to God she’d say yes, afraid he’d die if she didn’t.

“Please, Ian,” she panted, still recovering from her orgasm. “Now, please.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. He pressed his cock inside her, slowly, pushing it until he was buried to the hilt. Then he slid out slowly before pushing himself back in again, setting up a rhythm of long, slow strokes. 

“More,” Rose begged, and he complied, speeding up a bit - but not quite what she needed. 

She started to clutch at his back, her nails digging in a little, her head thrown back, and it spurred him to go faster, escalating the sensations around his cock. 

Ian propped on one elbow, bringing his free hand to stroke Rose’s face. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” _I love you_. She opened her eyes to look at him, and he stroked one cheek with his knuckle, sliding in and out of her. It occurred to him in that moment that with Rose, he wasn’t just fucking. For the first time in his life, he was actually making love. “You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen, Rose Tyler.” _And I love you._

“Yours,” she said, surprising him, still gazing into his eyes. “I’m all yours.”

He was humbled and had no idea what to say. Words wouldn’t come. He lowered his face to hers, kissing her as sweetly as he could. Reaching behind him, he caught one of her hands and laced his fingers through hers, needing that connection with this woman that had stolen his heart, his Rose. He lay their joined hands beside her head and bent to kiss her again, pinning her hand there. 

Her legs came up around his waist and the new angle felt amazing, prompting his hips to speed up. Rose’s eyes drifted closed and he held on tighter to her hand. 

“Stay with me, sweetheart.”

“Ian…”

“Look at me, Rose.” 

She did, and the intensity in her eyes, the heat he saw there, spurred him to go faster. Pumping became pounding and she let go of his hand to cling to his back. Ian slid his hands under her shoulders for leverage. 

Rose’s mouth hung open and she made little impact sounds every time his hips slammed into hers. She was close, he could tell by the fluttering of her walls around his cock, and he desperately wanted to watch her fall over. But his own orgasm was looming. He felt he was about to lose himself any second. He needed her to go first. 

“Rose… _fuck_...I’m close, sweetheart...I need you to…”

“I’m close, I’m close, I’m so close, you’re gonna make me come, I’m so close,” she chanted, and he put on a final burst of speed. 

There was only a moment’s warning before he exploded inside of her, his orgasm setting every nerve on fire and, blessedly, triggering Rose’s. He cried her name as she clenched around his cock, intensifying his pleasure, and he groaned his ecstasy into the skin of her neck, his senses filled with her, nothing but her. Rose shouted his name and God’s over and over as she came, clawing his back and leaving furrows he knew he’d feel in the morning. Then, as suddenly as it had come, it was over and they both trembled with aftershocks. 

They were both breathing heavily and clinging to each other, Ian’s face still pressed into the hollow between her shoulder and neck, inhaling her scent with every breath. If he had been a braver man, he’d have been professing his love for her in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Something held him back, though. Something kept him from revealing all just yet. The time wasn’t right. Coward, every time.

Ian collapsed to her side and rolled over onto his back, feeling his heart gallop in his chest, doing his best to catch his breath and cursing his body for being so old. He was slightly comforted (and more than a little smug) to hear Rose still trying to catch her own breath. 

Neither had completely recovered when she rolled over to lie in the crook of his shoulder, throwing her leg across his, laying her hand on his chest to play with the hair there. He wrapped his arm around her and caught her hand on his chest in his own hand, craving all the closeness he could get. 

_I love you._

He knew he hadn’t spoken out loud, but Rose sighed happily. He turned and kissed her forehead.

~*~O~*~

Rose was huddled with him on her couch, a blanket tucked around them, her body nestled comfortably against his. Ian had his bare feet propped up on the coffee table, crossed at the ankle, his pyjama-clad legs sticking out from under the blanket. The telly was off, and they simply watched the snow fall outside her window.

“Think it’ll stick?” he asked. 

Rose shrugged against him. “Newscaster said six to eight inches.”

“That’s quite a bit for London.”

“Maybe we’ll get snowed in after all.”

He chuckled. “Maybe so.”

They were quiet a bit longer and Ian just soaked up the domesticity of the situation. In the past, with the handful of women he’d dated, he’d never have dreamed of cuddling on the couch and watching it snow. He never would have been pleased to do it. He truly had been married to his job, and on track for a heart attack or stroke. 

Then this little slip of a woman had wandered into his office and he’d been rethinking his priorities ever since. Suddenly the home life and domestics appealed to him - but only with Rose. He could never do this with anyone else. What was it about her that had him so in thrall?

He had no idea, but he was prepared to spend the rest of his life finding out. 

“Ian?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Remember when I told you earlier that we needed to talk?”

He felt his heart seize up. “Yeah?”

“We still need to talk.”

He clenched the hand that wasn’t resting on her and released it. Closing his eyes, he tried not to panic. Failed. 

“Are you leaving me?”

“ _What_?” Rose sat up to look at him. “Where the hell did _that_ come from?”

“It’s a fair question. ‘We need to talk’ usually precedes bad news, and that’s the worst news I can think of.” 

She gave him a small smile. “No. I’m not going anywhere.” Then she leaned forward to give him a quick, reassuring kiss, and he felt himself relax. She wasn’t leaving him. She was staying with him. 

_Good. Okay. Still the luckiest bastard in the universe, then._

Rose sat back up and gave him a look. “But we do need to talk.”

“About what?”

“Amy pulled me aside today. She said that people are starting to talk about you.”

He grinned, almost completely at ease now. “People talk about me all the time, sweetheart. I’m used to it.”

“This is different,” Rose insisted. 

He doubted it, but decided he would humor her. “Alright, then. What are people saying?”

“They’re talking about the fact that you’re not displaying your usual temper much anymore.”

One of his eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Ian,” she sounded a little exasperated. “People are saying you’re losing your touch.”

He scoffed. “Stupid fuckers.” She gave him a withering look, and he sighed. “I’m _not_ losing my touch, so what does it matter what they say?”

“There’s also the rumor that you’ve got yourself a girlfriend.”

That got his attention. “Go on.”

“They’re saying that getting laid on the regular agrees with you. Mellows you out.”

His back stiffened. “That’s not it. _It’s not_ ,” he insisted at her disbelieving look.

“What is it, then?”

“Are you _opposed_ to me being a decent human being?” he asked, incredulous. 

“You _are_ a decent human being. Better than. You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

“Not while I’m fucking shouting and swearing!” he near-shouted. 

Rose, by comparison, was calm. “Yes, Ian. Even then.”

He shot to his feet, dislodging her, leaving her on the couch while he paced. The situation they found themselves in was perilous. Speculation that he had a girlfriend would almost certainly lead to questions, if not covert investigations. They could be discovered. But he couldn’t go back to the way he had been, couldn’t bear to let Rose think what she must think of him. What the hell were they to do?

“Ian.” Rose’s soft voice cut through his internal conflict, catching his attention. “Ian, look at me.” He did. “Tell me why you’ve been holding yourself back.”

He just stared at her for a few seconds, then shook his head a little and started pacing again. Telling her would be almost as bad as going back to the way he’d been. Or would it? Fuck, he didn’t know. He had no idea what to do. 

“Please tell me, Ian.”

Her voice was soothing, calm, and easy for him to trust. He could deny her nothing, so he told her humbly, near mumbling: “I didn’t want you to see me that way.”

Rose stood up and walked around the coffee table to where he stood with his head down. “Why not? Did you think I wouldn’t want you?”

He didn’t raise his head. “Why _would_ you want me? Especially when I’m like _that_?”

“Ian, look at me.” 

He didn’t, didn’t think he was capable of it, then she put her hand on his cheek. He raised his eyes to look into hers, and there was so much compassion there, so much understanding, that he almost dared to believe she’d care about him anyway, despite his nature and the fact that he was a bastard. 

“I watched you stomp around the office for nearly a year, and wanted you the whole time. Shouting and all, I wanted you. Why would it make a difference to me now?”

“Rose -”

“I knew what you were like that night in the car park. I knew you had a temper. I also knew there was more to you than that. I trusted my instincts.”

“Sweetheart -”

She spoke over him again. “You’re letting our personal life bleed into work and that’s against the rules. You have to stop pulling your punches, Ian. You have to go back to the way you were.”

“I can’t. I _can’t_ , Rose. You deserve better.”

“You’ve been holding yourself back for _weeks_. People are starting to suspect and, even if they weren't, you’re bound to be going spare.”

He was, but there was no way he was going to admit to that right now.

“Please, Ian. You have to go back to the way you were. If a situation arises and you need to give a bollocking, give the bollocking. Don’t hold back, especially not for me. You’ll feel better if you’re not denying yourself, and it’ll protect me, too.”

Well, that did it. He’d do anything to protect her, anything at all. He sighed and pulled her into his arms, laying a kiss on her hair then resting his cheek on the top of her head. 

“I was trying to be _better_ for you.”

“You’re perfect for me,” she countered, stroking his back. “Absolutely perfect. You couldn’t be better if you tried.”

He kissed the top of her head again, then chuckled. “This is really fucking unusual, you know that, right? Most women try to convince their blokes _not_ to be a prick.”

“Well, I’m not most women.” The grin in her voice was charming, then she looked up and her smile was even more charming. “I happen to like my grumpy bloke.”

“You’re fucking barmy.”

“I know. But I still like my grumpy bloke. My mad Scotsman with a bat.”

He kissed her softly. “Good thing.”


	14. Chapter 14

_27 January, 2017_

Ian was buried in a stack of briefs when Clara knocked at the door. He knew it was her without looking up; the cadence in her knock was distinctive. 

“Yeah, Clara.”

She opened the door and came in, carrying another stack of briefs. Ian groaned. “Fucking fuck me.”

“Don’t blame me,” she near-scolded him in that way she had, setting them on his desk. “You’re the one that wanted a brief on every racketeering case we’ve ever had.”

It was true, but that didn’t make the stack of papers any more appealing. “I don’t recall there being so fucking many.”

“I tried to tell you.” He grunted in irritation - and acknowledgement. “Do you want me to go through and pick out which ones are relevant?”

“Please, and thank you.” He checked his watch. “What time is the partners’ meeting?”

“Three.”

“Shit. I’m late.”

“You’re fine,” Clara tried to soothe him. “It’s just down the hall.”

He didn’t pay any attention to her, just rolled down his sleeves and threw on his suit jacket.

“Ian?” Her voice was unusually quiet. 

“Yeah?”

“Is this the meeting where -”

He nodded, not needing her to finish. “Yeah, it’s on the agenda. That’s today.”

Clara patted him on the arm. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” He grabbed his leather portfolio and stepped out into the corridor.

~*~O~*~

Partners’ meetings were the most dull meetings Ian had to endure - and he had to endure _a lot_ of fucking meetings. When the firm was young and the partners consisted of just him, Alistair, and Sarah Jane, they had been far more interesting. With every junior partner that was added, the meetings became more boring until now, with six junior partners, he was bored out of his tits every month. Still, they were a required part of his job. He couldn't get out of them. Alistair and Sarah Jane gave him dirty looks when he tried.

Besides, this meeting today was a bit more important than the others. Today was the day Rose would be voted on. 

The meeting dragged on and on until Ian wanted to scream. He didn’t give a fuck about a retirement party for one of the paralegals, bumping their hourly rates, or expanding onto another floor. Outwardly, he was perfectly calm, if antipathic. Inwardly, his brain felt as if it were going to melt and seep out through his ears. But finally, after an hour and a half of Ian doodling increasingly vulgar expletives and profanities on the legal pad in his portfolio, they got to the only part he was interested in. 

“And now to the final order of business,” Alistair said, leaning back in his chair. “Sarah Jane’s pupil finished her pupilage this week.”

“Rose Tyler. And yes, she did. Yesterday, in fact,” Sarah Jane smiled. 

“Oh how quickly they grow up,” one of the partners, Jones, quipped. Everyone around the table laughed, but Ian barely managed a grimace behind his steepled fingers. His nerves wouldn’t allow for more.

“Bring her in,” said another. “Let’s interview her.”

Ian opened his mouth automatically to say that she wasn’t in the office, but thankfully Sarah Jane stepped in. “She’s not in today, taking her certificate day. She’ll be back on Monday.”

He took one deep breath, folding his hands and pressing his index fingers to his mouth, staring around the table. He’d almost blown everything. _Focus!_

Sarah Jane went on. “She’s been an ideal pupil. The work she’s done is efficient and well-organized, she’s clever and quick, and her work ethic is exemplary.” Ian swelled with pride, although he did his best not to do so visibly. “I move that we offer Ms. Tyler a position at the firm as an associate, beginning Monday.”

“Seconded,” said another partner, Jo Grant, the only female partner besides Sarah Jane. “Need more women around here to control you boys.” There were a couple of snickers. 

“I’m not so sure that’s the best move,” Ian spoke up, his heart pounding in his throat over what he was about to do. For the millionth time he debated his options at lightning speed, then plowed on. “I’m not convinced we should offer her the job.”

Most of the people at the table looked at him as if he’d gone mad. Perhaps he had. 

“Why on earth not?” Sarah Jane demanded. 

_Because I’m in love with her._

“She’s a distraction,” Ian explained. “She’s too fucking pretty. She turns the heads of all of the unmarried employees and they flock to her. I’ve found a couple of them hanging around her fucking desk, asking her for dates. Most notably Adam Mitchell.” It was a lie, he’d never caught Adam there, which was a good thing or he’d likely have been brought up on assault charges. But the tale was true enough for his purposes: he knew that there had been requests for dates. 

“You know, she could _like_ this Mitchell boy, Docherty,” a man named Adric said reasonably, unaware how thin the ice he was treading was. “They could even have a little relationship going on. Who knows?”

Ian’s blood boiled and was afraid he’d break his teeth from grinding them so hard. Once he was under some semblance of control, he ignored Adric and went on to further illustrate his point. “She’s attracting blokes like mad. And it’s not just the blokes, mind you. Hell, even Clara talked about fucking pursuing her. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“That sounds like all the more reason to hire her!” Henry Van Staten laughed. “A bit of eye candy never hurt anyone!”

Ian did his best not to leap to his feet and tell the other man to fuck off in several painful but creative ways. Thankfully, he held off and Sarah Jane spoke. 

“Am I hearing you right, Ian?” Sarah Jane asked in an incredulous voice. “You’re suggesting we not hire her because she’s too _pretty_?”

“We have to preserve the work environment,” Ian said, hating himself even as the words tumbled out of his mouth. “She’s disruptive. Unintentionally, but that doesn’t change the fact. I recommend we send her off with well wishes and glowing recommendations.”

Alistair laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d object to a bit of fluff brightening the place up!” he said, slapping Ian on the shoulder. It took all of the willpower Ian had not to demand Alistair apologize that instant for the insult to Rose. The fucking _nerve_ , calling Rose a bit of fucking fluff. There was more substance to her than to all of these arseholes put together.

“There’s a motion on the table,” Alistair announced, apparently unaware of Ian’s seething rage. “All in favor?”

A chorus of ‘aye’s went up around the table. 

“Ian?” Alistair said, turning to look at him. “Am I to assume you’re the lone holdout? A nay vote?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, feeling sick and wishing he could crawl in a hole - any hole - and never come out. “Yeah, I vote ‘nay’.”

~*~O~*~

His mood was improved but not stellar when he unlocked the door of the luxury suite he’d booked for he and Rose during their stay in Barcelona. He knew he had to tell her what he’d done sometime this weekend. She’d understand, he was sure, but he was equally sure she’d be hurt. It wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to, but necessary. She had to hear it from him.

Once the door was unlocked he held it open for her, letting her step in ahead of him. 

“Ian,” she breathed, sounding awed. “This is amazing.”

“Only the best for my sweetheart.” _My love,_ his brain taunted him. _Only the best for my love._. 

She smiled at him brilliantly and he smiled back, relieving her of her duffel bag she’d insisted on carrying and taking her hand in his. Her fingers wrapped around his automatically, and he felt warm comfort in the center of his chest. 

After he pressed a kiss to her temple, he tugged her by the hand further into the suite. “C’mon. Let's get a look around this place.”

It was tastefully and stylishly decorated in shades of black, white and grey with splashes of color here and there. There were teal throw pillows in the lounge area, the kitchen had a red backsplash, and the bedroom was accented with taupe. He didn’t doubt that the bathroom was similarly decorated. 

Rose looked around, her jaw open. “It’s like your flat,” she said, still sounding awestruck. 

Ian snorted. “It is not. This looks nothing like my flat.”

“I don’t mean in how it looks, I mean that it’s so luxurious.” Her words were a bit more hesitant when she went on. “I don't know if I can stay somewhere like this.”

He blinked, nonplussed. “You stay at my flat all the time.”

“Only because you’re there.”

His heart clenched almost painfully. “I’m here, too.” She didn’t say anything to that, and he went on. “You deserve this. You know that, right?”

“I don’t -”

“You earned this, Rose. A weekend away after years and years of hard work. There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing.”

“I feel like an imposter.”

He pulled her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. “You’re not an impostor, sweetheart. You’re Rose Tyler, and you deserve all the good things life has to offer.”

“You’re just saying that so you can get in my knickers.” 

Ian didn’t miss the change of subject, but decided to let it go. If she wasn’t comfortable talking about it, he wasn’t going to force the issue. He pushed her back and gave her a mock stern look while she curled her tongue around her teeth. 

“Are you expecting me to deny wanting to get into your knickers?”

“You’d be lying if you did.”

“Too fucking right I would,” he said, pulling her back into his arms while she giggled. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you do deserve the best.”

She shook her head against his chest and he sighed, resigned. 

“So…” she said after a minute, looking up to smile at him, “you admit you’re trying to get into my knickers…” She walked her fingers up his shirt and her voice was low and seductive. He knew that voice. That voice promised untold sensual delight. His cock knew that voice, too, and twitched in his pants. 

He caught her fingers when they got near his collar and kissed them. “Later, sweetheart.”

“But -”

“Later, I promise. I’ve made reservations for dinner tonight, and we’re going to be late if we don’t hurry.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes, dinner. I hope you brought a dress.”

“You told me to...might have known you were up to something.” A sultry smile lit her face and she toyed with the button of his oxford. He kept from dragging her into the bedroom by sheer force of will. 

“Mr. Docherty,” she purred, and he groaned. “Are you trying to wine me and dine me?”

“I’m trying to take you to dinner, sweetheart.” Rose noted his distress, and the little minx went on her tiptoes to lay kisses along his neck. He maintained his grip on the situation - barely. 

“I’m not hungry,” she murmured, then he felt her smile against his neck. “For food.”

Ian felt his control fraying and grabbed Rose by the shoulders, pulling her just far enough away so that he could kiss her almost desperately. Rose abandoned herself to the kiss, and he let go of her shoulders to wrap his arms around her waist. She smiled against his mouth, clearly thinking she’d won, and lay her arms on his shoulders.

He broke away from her, planting soft little kisses on her lips as he pulled away. “I’m determined that we get out and see a bit of the world while we’re here. You’re not going to lure me away from that with sex, Ms. Tyler. ”

“Fun to try though, right?”

He laughed and kissed her again. She rolled herself, grinding her abdomen against his erection, and he did his best not to groan. 

“Dinner first. Shag later.”

“Promise?” she asked, carding her fingers through his hair - something else she knew drove him spare. 

“Oh, God, yes. I fucking swear. But for now, Rose, I want to take you out on the town, show you off. I’ve been wanting to for _weeks_ , but now I can.”

“Let’s go see if I have a dress, then.”

~*~O~*~

_29 January, 2017_

Rose swam up from sleep, becoming slowly aware of her surroundings. She was in an unfamiliar place, but she felt completely safe. The sun was shining in the room; a watery light, the kind you get just after sunrise. The sheets were soft, feeling luxurious against her skin - and there was a lot of skin for the sheets to rub, because she was completely naked. 

A soft snore came from behind her and something twitched against her belly. She smiled. _Ian_. He was curled against her, his belly to her back, with one arm slung over her and the other under her head as a pillow. She could feel his soft exhalations on the back of her neck, moving her hair a little with every breath. It tickled, but she wasn’t about to disturb his sleep. He was such a light sleeper anyway, never getting more than a few hours a night; this moment was precious and she knew it. Knowing how precious it was, she sought to make the most of it. Oh, so gently, she nuzzled into him, seeking more contact between their bodies. 

Today they planned to wander the Gothic Quarter until their flight left at three. Ian insisted that they visit the Gothic Quarter, saying that it was the beating heart of Barcelona and simply could not be missed. Rose had protested lightly until he mentioned the ‘fantastic shopping’. She’d started to remind him that she wasn’t much of a shopper, but he’d looked so much like Father Christmas bearing a gift that she just didn’t have the heart to. So she’d smiled and agreed to go, deciding to browse a bit if it would make him happy, earning a smug smirk that she was forced to kiss right off his face. 

They’d spent a large part of the previous day going all over the city, Ian describing the architecture and history to her. He seemed to know something about everything, but it wasn’t the least bit obnoxious; it was terribly endearing. She loved hearing him talk, having him teach her, his brogue a little thicker when he wasn’t in a professional setting. 

She was in love with him. She had been in love with the _idea_ of him for months and months. But now, knowing that her hunch had been correct and he really was a wonderful man underneath all that bluster, she was absolutely mad about him. He made her feel like a cherished treasure every moment they were together; the way he looked at her and touched her, like she was some precious thing, was heart-melting. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly sentimental, he even called her his ‘precious girl’. In bed he treated her like a goddess, a thing to be worshipped. He made love to her every time...even when they were fucking, there was still a tenderness, a magic to the way he touched her, the way he gazed at her, almost awestruck. His touches were reverent, like he’d never seen anything or anyone as beautiful or precious as she was, and he looked at her with such naked adoration in his eyes that it left Rose breathless sometimes.

Ian treated her like a princess, and Rose wasn’t sure she deserved it. But deserving or not, she wasn’t about to turn down the affections of the man who, in her eyes, was perfect. The man she loved.

She’d come so close to telling him that she was in love with him multiple times, but always held back. She knew he cared about her. That was obvious. What was less obvious was whether or not he’d welcome a declaration of love from her. He might, though, and he might actually love her as well. Rose almost laughed. The thought that Ian Docherty might love her was too fantastic to believe, too impossible to comprehend. But she dared to hope he would one day. They’d only been together a month, but Rose already knew that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, if he’d have her. 

_That_ was a thought that she didn’t quite have the nerve to truly entertain. Not yet. 

He stirred behind her, his hand flattening on her bare belly and making a small circle on her skin. Rose bit her lip and scooted backwards a little, pressing her back more firmly against his chest and nestling her bum against him. He hummed and she grinned, covering his hand with hers and threading their fingers together loosely. 

“Good morning,” he rumbled against her neck, placing light little kisses there. He closed his hand, trapping her fingers. 

“Good morning,” she purred, wiggling her body against him, feeling his hardening cock on her bum.

“I love waking up with you,” he mumbled. Rose giggled at the sensation of his scruff on her neck. She didn’t giggle long, though, before she gasped from a well-placed nip on her skin. “You’re so warm and soft.” 

“I love waking up this way, too. And you’re warm, but you’re not very soft…” She ground her bum against him and he pulled her a little closer, putting his forehead on her shoulder. 

“You’d best stop, else you get something started.”

She giggled and pressed her hips against him again. “Maybe that was the idea.”

He growled a little and pulled her shoulder, indicating that she should roll over. She did, both of them straightening their legs, Rose sliding until her belly was pressed against his, his erection trapped between them. There was something in his eyes, though, that kept her from seeking him out and stroking him. His ice-blue eyes were ineffably tender, and he stroked her cheek with the knuckles of one hand for a few moments. 

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “So fucking beautiful, Rose Tyler.”

She smiled at him. “So are you.” He shook his head in denial and she kissed him lightly. “You are. To me, you are.”

“I love you,” he blurted, shocking her. He looked worried, afraid, but all she could do in that moment was blink.

“You - you love me?” she stammered.

Ian nodded, sincerity radiating from his eyes. “I do. I love you so much, sweetheart.”

She felt her face spread into the widest smile she could remember. “I love you, too, Ian.”

Some of the tension drained out of his body and he smiled, prompting Rose to smile even brighter. He tugged her closer into an exuberant hug, just holding her close and in his arms for a moment. Rose felt her eyes fill with tears - tears of happiness, tears of disbelief, tears of relief. 

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. “Thank you, Rose.” Before she could ask what for, he went on. “For choosing me, for being with me, for letting me love you.” 

Rose couldn’t answer, she just let out a watery laugh and hugged him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple of things today....
> 
> 1) Chapter 14 is the halfway point! We're over the hump! :D 
> 
> 2) Check out this [this amazing ficlet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9903569) by Amelia Ponders, featuring Ian and Rose! Thank you, AmeliaPonders!!!! <3 
> 
> 3) There have been a couple of conversations in various chats about what Ian looks like, does he look like the Doctor or Malcolm or ....? 
> 
> This is Ian.  
> 


	15. Chapter 15

_30 January, 2017_

They’d fallen into a routine over the last few weeks of whose flat they spent the evening at on which nights. It was becoming difficult for Ian to recall which suits were where, between maintaining two residences, and he was sure that Rose was having the same problem. He’d been granted a drawer and closet space at Rose’s flat, and a shaving kit lay on her bathroom counter. She’d been given the same consideration at his flat, and there was a makeup bag and hairdryer in his bathroom now. He wanted to consolidate living spaces, but rather thought that one month might be a little soon to ask her to move in with him. He had learned, however, that her lease was up in June. He resolved to ask her in May.

Significantly, they had exchanged keys upon their return from Barcelona, granting each other carte blanche to come and go in each others' spaces as they pleased. He hadn’t intended to bring the subject of keys up to Rose for at least a couple more weeks, having knocked around the idea of giving her a key to his flat on Valentine’s Day. She beat him to it, though. Not that he was complaining. 

Monday nights were spent at Rose’s flat. Sarah Jane had kept Rose behind after work to offer her the associate job and work out the necessary details, since she’d had court all day. Ian wasn’t needed and really didn’t want to be a part anyway; the guilt over his vote was eating him alive. He hadn’t told her while they’d been in Barcelona; despite his best intentions, the right moment never seemed to present itself. So he’d resolved to tell her tonight over dinner, and to pray she wouldn’t kill him. It seemed like a solid plan. He hoped that it being Monday night at Rose’s flat would play in his favor: it would be simple for her to get up and leave from his flat, but throwing him out of hers would take a little more effort. He prayed it wouldn’t come to that. Surely she’d take it well.

So he’d gone to Rose’s flat, using his key for the first time, and ordered a celebratory dinner for them that he hoped would soften the blow. 

He’d been waiting for the food for twenty minutes when he got a text from Rose. 

~ Marion - _I’m an associate now! On my way home. xoxo_

He congratulated her through the pit in his stomach. Rose being an associate at Stewart, Docherty, and Smith, to him, only meant that they’d still have to hide, and he was getting thoroughly sick of hiding. In Barcelona he’d had a taste of the freedom they were denied here, and it had been intoxicating. People had given them looks everywhere they’d gone, and he knew that they were surprised to see someone as beautiful as Rose on his arm. He’d kissed her wherever and whenever he liked, and had taken great pride in showing her off. He wanted to do that here, at home, as well. But that wasn’t possible as long as they were required to keep everything a secret. 

The only bright spot Ian could see was the fact that she was out of her pupilage and had her practicing certificate. If the worst were to happen, Rose wouldn’t have to start over. 

When the buzzer sounded, Ian stood up from the couch to press the unlock button and let the delivery man in the building, then went to the kitchen to grab the wine he’d been chilling and two glasses before he opened the door to get the food. 

Much to his surprise, the door opened on its own. He turned around to see a blonde woman in a tracksuit with her back to him, closing the door behind her.

“Rose?” she called. “You’d better have a good reason for - oh!” She jumped when she spotted a wide-eyed Ian and covered her heart for just a moment before she put her hands on her hips. “Who the hell are you?”

“Who the fuck are _you_?” he demanded.

She ignored him. “What are you doing in my daughter’s flat? With _wine_!?”

 _Her daughter_. This...this _woman_ must be Rose’s mother. Ian swore under his breath.

Deciding he should probably be on his best behavior with her, he sat the wine and glasses down on the table. “I’m sorry,” he began with a smile, extending his hand. “I’m afraid we haven’t gotten off to a very good start. My name is Ian Docherty. You must be Mrs. Tyler.”

She eyed his hand skeptically but didn’t take it. He dropped it after a minute. 

“What’re you doing in my daughter’s flat, then, Mr. Docherty?”

“Please, call me Ian,” he requested, buying himself time. He had no idea what Rose had told her mother about their relationship, if anything, and had a suspicion that if Rose had told her mother, this would be more -

“You’ve got wine and two glasses,” the woman said shrewdly, cutting off his thoughts. “But my daughter would never date the likes of you.”

Ian stiffened. “And why not?”

Rose’s mother scoffed. “Look at you! You’re old enough to be her father, you are. Grandfather, more like.”

He was grinding his teeth, desperately trying to keep control of his temper and figure out what to say when the door opened again and Rose stepped in. 

“Ian! I’m home! I hope you’re - oh!” Rose’s face paled a little and her mouth opened in shock. “Mum!”

Her mum spun on her heel to face her daughter, hands on hips. “And just where have you been, young lady? Three days...I’ve been callin’ you for three days! No answer!”

She shot a look at Ian. “We were...traveling.”

“Wha? Traveling?” The older woman darted her eyes over to Ian. “With _him_?”

Rose stepped over to Ian and took his hand. “Yes, with him. Mum, this is Ian Docherty. Ian, this is my mum, Jackie Tyler.”

“We met,” he muttered. 

“What’re you holdin’ his hand for, Rose? Surely you’re not -” She paused, and her eyes went wide. 

“Ian and I are dating, Mum. Have been for a little over a month.”

Jackie looked flabbergasted. “No.”

“Yes,” Rose reiterated. “And we were traveling this past weekend; Ian took me to Barcelona.”

“No,” she repeated.

“Problem?” Ian was doing his best to let Rose handle this situation, but the urge to smart off to this woman was too strong. He _had_ to say something. 

Jackie ignored him. “Rose! What’re you thinking? He’s twice your age!”

“Not...quite,” Rose stalled. 

“How old are you?” Jackie demanded of him.

Oh, how he wanted to tell this fucking shrew off. But this fucking shrew was Rose’s mother, and if he had any luck at all, he would be dealing with her for a long time. He had to behave. 

“Forty-six.”

Jackie looked at Rose with something like betrayal written into the shock on her face. “He’s _my_ age, Rose!”

“I don’t care, Mum. I love him.” She squeezed his hand and looked up at him. His heart did the same little flip it had done every time she’d said those words since they were first uttered the day before. He looked down at her and smiled a little, despite the circumstances.

“What’d you do to my daughter, then?”

“I’m sorry?” Ian asked, confused.

“What’d you do to my daughter to make her think she’s in love with you?”

“I didn’t fucking do anything!”

“Ian,” Rose admonished him quietly, and he settled at once - but he still seethed.

“Mum, Ian and I met at work. Do you remember me telling you about the bloke I had a crush on?” She indicated Ian. “This is him. He felt the same way about me, but neither of us knew. Crazy, huh?”

Jackie held up a hand to stop Rose. “Wait a minute. You told me that the bloke you had a crush on was your boss.”

Beside him, Rose shifted uncomfortably. He felt like doing much the same. “Ian _is_ my boss. He’s...”

“Hold on,” Jackie said, and Ian could almost _see_ the wheels spinning underneath all the bleached hair. “‘Stewart, Docherty, and Smith’. That’s where you work, right?”

“Yeah.”

She pointed a manicured finger at Ian. “He’s the Docherty!”

Rose looked and sounded sheepish, and Ian wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand seeing her that way much longer. “Yeah,” she answered her mother.

She looked accusingly at Ian. “You’re the owner!”

“Senior partner. Yeah, I am.”

“Wait a minute...you look familiar...I’ve seen you on telly!”

He shifted a bit. “It happens from time to time.”

“What do you do, then? Pick out some innocent young girl like my daughter to prey on? I bet you’ve got a wife and kids you’re running around on, don’t you!”

Ian and Rose both shouted “Oi!” at the same time. 

“Ian is _not_ preying on me, Mum! And he’s _not_ married!”

 _Yet,_ his brain supplied unhelpfully. 

“My intentions towards Rose are entirely honorable,” he said instead, proud of his control over his temper. 

Jackie snorted. “You mean to tell me that you haven’t been sleeping with my daughter? You expect me to believe that?”

“I said ‘honorable’, I didn’t say ‘chaste’,” he clarified. “I’m in love with her.”

Rose’s mother stared at him, her eyes wide and questioning, and she asked the one question he hadn’t been prepared for. “Why?”

He exchanged a look with Rose. “Why what?”

“Why my daughter?”

His mind reeled, looking for an appropriate answer to that question. There were entire volumes of things he could say and yet nothing felt quite right. He settled on the simple truth. “Believe me, I did my best not to fall in love with your daughter. But I couldn’t help it. I was mad for her well before we ever spoke to each other. She’s just too...too everything. Too clever, too bright, too beautiful, too warm. I couldn’t stay away from her.” He looked over and Rose was at his shoulder, looking up at him with shining eyes. Unable to stop himself, he bent a little and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Still looking at her, he said, “She makes me want to be a better man.” 

Rose sniffed and lay her head on his shoulder for a minute, then looked up at her mum. “Does that answer your question?”

Ian was completely surprised to see mascara-colored tear tracks down Jackie Tyler’s face. She wasn’t looking at him, however, she was looking straight at Rose with a wobbly lip. “Oh, Rose!” she burst out, then dashed forward and threw her arms around her daughter. Rose let go of his hand to return the hug, and he stood by, uncomfortable, as mother and daughter hugged each other tightly. After a minute, Jackie stepped back and patted Rose’s face, smiling at her. Then she looked over at Ian. “Oh, c’mere, you!” Before he knew what had happened, he had an armful of Jackie Tyler. He patted her back awkwardly, unsure what to do, while Rose stood nearby and looked like she was doing her best to fight off a round of giggles. He narrowed his eyes at her, but she didn’t look contrite in the least, merely like she was trying harder not to laugh. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Jackie released him. “Guess I’d better get used to you huh?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he confirmed. “So we might as well get used to _each other_.”

The buzzer sounded, startling all of them. Rose stepped over to let the delivery man in the building. Then she came back to Ian, sliding her arms around his waist and laying her head on his shoulder. He lazily threw one arm around her, holding her close, trying to ignore the way Jackie’s lip quibbled at the sight. 

He decided to be the bigger man. “Stay for dinner?” he offered, not thinking she’d accept.

“We’re celebrating,” Rose told her mother. 

“Celebrating? Celebrating what?”

“I’m a full-fledged solicitor now,” Rose beamed. “And as of an hour ago, I’m an associate with the firm I’ve been doing my pupilage at!”

“Congratulations,” Jackie said, smiling. “But that means you two have to keep your relationship a secret, doesn’t it?”

Rose nodded. “Yeah. We can’t tell anyone. Only two people know, besides you.”

“Well, I’m not telling anyone. You two have enough on your plate.” She was quiet for a minute while Ian paid for Chinese, and when the door closed behind the deliveryman, she said, “I think I will stay for dinner. If this old lecher is determined to be in your life, seems I ought to get to know him a bit.”

Ian bit back a sigh. It was going to be a long night...and he wasn’t sure now how or when he was going to break the news about the vote to Rose.

~*~O~*~

_31 January, 2017_

Rose grinned to herself at her desk. Couldn’t help it, really. For the first time in her life, everything in her world was just about perfect. She’d finally achieved her lifelong dream of becoming a solicitor and had landed her first job (and a rather well-paying one, at that) right out of her pupilage. She had a bloke: tall, handsome, and clever. And he’d taken her on a romantic, whirlwind trip over the weekend. Her mother had met him and approved...well, as much as she was ever going to approve of any bloke. But best and most impossibly of all, the man she was absolutely mad about, who she’d been crazy over for nearly a year, loved her, too. It was like all of her dreams had come true at once. 

The only dim spot, really, was that she and Ian still had to hide their relationship. It was monumentally unfair; they should be able to show the world how much they cared for each other, but they couldn’t. Rose almost wished she’d been let go so she could find another job, even though it almost certainly would have been with a less prestigious firm. It would have been worth it to be able to be with Ian. 

She wasn’t upset about being hired on, though. Not in the least. Stewart, Docherty, and Smith was the best of the best in legal circles. She loved her job, loved what she did, and loved her coworkers.

But she loved Ian, too, and wished she could show that somewhere other than their flats or another damn country. 

Ian’s voice wafted into the bullpen from his office. “ _Fuck me running. Who the fuck said…? Jesus riverdancing Christ. You tell that little jackoff-_ ”

Rose grinned to herself again. Her bloke had many talents - she flushed a little at the memory of him showing her a couple of them - but one of his greatest talents was swearing creatively. She felt like laughing at the mental image of Jesus riverdancing, but when Ian was in a mood, _nobody_ in the office laughed. At home (his or hers), she’d be laughing hysterically...and he would join her after a minute. But this was work. At work she was just part of the crowd. There was nothing special about her, nothing to protect her from one of his bollockings should she step out of line. So she bit her lip to swallow the laugh and resolved to ask him about it when she got to his flat tonight. 

“I need some coffee,” she announced. “Amy, do you want coffee?”

Amy gestured at her mug without looking up, engrossed in the document she was creating. “M’all set,” she said absently. 

“Okay!” Rose chirped, cheerful, then headed down the corridor towards the break room. She groaned a little when she got there: Adam Mitchell stood by the keurig. Rose bit back a sigh, hoping he wouldn’t speak.

“Tyler!” he greeted her, dashing her hopes and looking pleased that she was there. “Congratulations on making associate!”

“Thanks,” she answered, going for the basket of k-cups. “Is there any more of that dark roast in here?”

“I was thinking,” Adam began, ignoring her question. “We still haven’t had that date.”

“You’re right, we haven’t,” Rose said, not looking up from her perusal of the coffees. 

“We should remedy that,” he suggested in what he probably considered to be a seductive tone, sidling closer to Rose. 

“Hmm? Oh! I, um, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” 

Rose was stuck. Should she tell him she had a boyfriend (and oh, how Ian would hate that word), or should she come up with another reason? “It wouldn’t be -”

“Ah, yes. Of course...I understand. Office romances can be tricky,” he said, smug. “But you’re clever and I’m brilliant. We can figure it out. Be covert.”

Rose’s free hand clenched beside her. “So kind of you to acknowledge that I’m clever. As if finishing school and becoming a solicitor didn’t do so well enough.”

“No, that’s not what I -”

“I’m not concerned with the fallout from an office romance.” _At least, not with you._

“Fabulous!” he crowed, taking her words the opposite of how she’d intended them. She resisted the impulse to slap her forehead. “I’ll take a rain check on that date for today, then, and ask again soon. Shall I? We’ll celebrate you being hired.”

_Fat chance of that._

“Of course,” he went on before she could rebuff him again, “I heard it wasn’t unanimous, but doesn’t have to be, does it?”

She turned away from the coffee machine. “You heard what?” He looked insufferably smug, and Rose wanted to slap the taste out of his mouth, the way her mother would have done. 

“I heard that your vote wasn’t unanimous. Ended up being eight-to-one, if my source is accurate. And they should be, they were in the meeting,” he bragged.

“Who was the dissenter?” Rose demanded, her entire body tense.

“Well, I -”

“Who was it?”

“I didn’t - “

“Do you know who it was?”

“Of course I do, but -”

“ _Who was it_?”

He gave her an odd look, as if concerned for her sanity and a little afraid. Rose cleared her throat and, with maximum effort, relaxed her face into something she hoped would pass for a charming smile. Her tone was falsely cheery, almost flirty, but she didn’t care about that at the moment. She’d deal with that particular fallout later. Right now, she needed to know. 

“So sorry. It’d just help if I knew who I needed to work harder to impress, you know?”

Adam scoffed. “Chance would be a fine thing. No, there’s hope of impressing him. It was Docherty. He voted against hiring you on. And get this…” He looked around the break room as if someone were actually going to jump out at them, then went on in a lower voice. “He told the other partners that the reason they should vote you down was because you’re too pretty, called you a distraction! A disruption! Ha! As if that old goat would have a clue what to do with a pretty girl, given half a chance!”

He laughed harder, but to Rose, it sounded as if he were a million miles away. When she’d heard Ian’s name, the bottom had dropped out of her world - her world that had been so perfect not ten minutes before - and hearing the rest of what Adam had to say had only added insult to injury.

Ian had voted against her joining the firm. Why would he do that? No, she knew exactly why. She understood what he’d been trying to do. That didn’t make it hurt any less, though. It didn’t make up for the fact that he didn’t tell her what he’d done. And the worst part...he’d said she was too pretty. A distraction.

Is that really how he saw her? A bit of decoration at the office, less than capable, less than worthy? She didn’t want to believe that, but…

“I have to go,” she muttered and started for the door. 

“But...your coffee!”

“Feel sick,” Rose choked out, and it wasn’t a lie. Her heart was pounding, her head was swimming, her hands were clammy, and she thought she may faint. 

She stumbled to her desk, nearly blinded by tears, and grabbed her coat, throwing it on with jerky motions. 

“C’mon, Amy, we’re going to lunch.”

“Rose, I’m stuck in this brief. Besides, it’s only -” She looked up and caught sight of Rose’s face. Immediately, she got to her feet and started pulling on her coat. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going to be seeing Adam again, and he gets kinda creepy. There's your warning.


	16. Chapter 16

Ian was a clever man, but he was sure that he’d never get the hang of certain things. One of those things was Microsoft Excel. The spreadsheet he was supposed to be creating was currently on the receiving end of an under-the-breath bollocking, and he was lamenting that he never took a computer class in Uni. 

His office door flew open, but he didn’t bat an eye. Clara was just in a mood, he supposed. She was the only person who would ever enter his office without knocking. He’d have to tread lightly until her mood passed, though, lest they have a row. But she may have the information he needed... 

“Clara, do you remember how - “

The door slammed shut, and that got his attention. He looked up, peering over his glasses, only to find Clara standing in the middle of his office, seething. 

“Problem?” he asked, droll. 

“ _You’re_ the problem, you unbelieveable, insufferable _twat_.”

Ian blinked. In five years they’d had some rows. Two strong personalities like theirs, of course they had. But she’d never called him names before. He pulled his glasses off and stared at her. “Excuse me?”

“There’s no excuse _for_ you, although I’ll be doing my best to make some up.”

“You’re not making any fucking sense.”

She came to his desk and leaned over it, pointing a slender finger at him. “No. You know what doesn’t make sense, Ian? What doesn’t make sense is you going to the vote Friday afternoon, taking off with Rose Friday evening, being together _all bloody weekend_ and not _telling_ her about it!”

Ian paled. “She found out.”

Clara leaned back and crossed her arms, smiling at him as if he were a simpleton. “Yeah. She found out. And do you know _how_ she found out?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Adam Mitchell was trying to pull her and told her.”

“Mother _fucker_!” Ian got to his feet and rounded the desk.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Clara demanded.

“To see Rose. I’ve got to explain -”

She moved to stand in front of him, putting her hands on his chest, blocking him. “You’re not going _anywhere_ , Ian. She doesn’t want to see you right now.”

“I don’t care,” he shouted. “I’ve got to -”

“You’re damned right you’ve got to, but not right now. She doesn’t want to see you.”

“Get the _fuck_ out of my way, Clara.”

“ _No,_ Ian. You’re not going out there. She’s not here, anyway.”

“She needs me!” he fairly shouted.

Clara rolled her eyes. “You don’t know the first thing about women, and you’re utterly impossible. She doesn’t need _you_ right now, you prat, she needs her _girlfriends_. And that’s where I’m going. I’m going to clean up _your_ mess.”

He was stunned. “You are?”

“Yes. Amy called and told me what had happened - Rose couldn’t because she was _crying too hard_ \- then told me where they were. I’m on my way.”

Ian heaved a huge sigh of relief. “Thank fucking Christ. Tell her -”

“I’m not telling her _anything_ from you, understand? You’re going to tell her yourself.”

“Right,” Ian agreed, at a complete loss as to what to do. 

“Stay here. Don’t follow me or I swear to God, I won’t do a thing to help you.”

He stared at her and she stared right back. Ian blinked first. 

“Alright, fine. Go. Do whatever you need. Just…”

“I’m going to do my best. But you really messed up this time, Ian.”

“Yeah,” he agreed in a quiet voice, not looking up. 

Clara stepped away from him, watched him for a second as if to make sure he wasn’t going to follow, then went to the door. She turned before she walked out and pointed at him.

“I told you, Ian. I told you that she’d run away from what hurts. You hurt her.”

He flinched, hearing his own worst fear put into words that way, but nodded. Then he implored her, “Fix this, Clara.”

“I’ll do my best, but I’m not making any promises. Just…” she motioned with her hands. “Do as you’re told. Stay here, leave her alone, don’t call or text, and don’t do anything stupid.”

Ian nodded, his hands in his pockets, looking down at the floor. He trusted Clara implicitly, and if she told him to do something to salvage the situation, he was willing to do it. She wouldn’t steer him wrong. 

“I’ll be back,” Clara told him, buttoning up her coat. “No idea how long.”

“Take as long as you need,” he told her without looking up. 

The door opened and closed, leaving him in his office, alone. 

Stupid. He was so fucking _stupid_. He should have told her, he knew he should have told her, but he...hadn’t. He could make excuses, rationalize his behavior, but what good would it do? He’d been abysmally stupid for not telling her right away. And now he may have ruined everything. The best thing that ever happened to him, and he may have just fucked it six ways ’til Sunday. 

Suddenly furious, he spun around to his desk, grabbed the first thing he saw - a paperweight - and hurled it across the room, denting the wall.

~*~O~*~

Ian prowled the firm for nearly an hour and a half, spoiling for a fight. Most of the employees had been around long enough to see him coming, sense his moods, and get out of the way accordingly. He wouldn’t allow himself to get near that little fucker Mitchell, worried that he may do something stupid. As a result, he was mostly left unsatisfied in his quest to vent his spleen, forced to berate two paralegals who were gossiping just outside the break room in what was, by any standards, a massive overreaction to a mild breach of workplace ethic. It was highly dissatisfying, and made his mood impossibly worse.

Almost exactly at the ninety minute mark, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He scrambled to dig it out, looking at the screen, hoping that the message would be from Rose. It wasn’t. 

~ Clara - _on our way back. leave her alone_  
~ Ian - _is she alright?_  
~ Clara - _she will be. leave her alone, Ian, I mean it. just give her some time._

Ian swore and dropped his phone back into his pocket. Fuck _that_. Clara was supposed to have been smoothing things so that he could talk to Rose. There was no way he was going to stay away. 

Not knowing where they were or how long it would take for them to get back to the office, Ian continued to prowl the halls. He had no idea what he’d do once he actually saw her, he only knew that he needed to see her. He needed to lay his eyes on her, to know that she was okay. Somehow, though, he doubted that she was okay. And it was entirely his fault. 

He’d deserve it if she left him. He deserved any and all punishment she chose to mete out. And he’d take it, too - gladly - if only she’d stay with him. Rose wasn’t a craving anymore, she wasn’t just something he wanted. He _needed_ her. She made him feel whole, complete. He’d been candid with Jackie the night before: she made him want to be a better man. 

And now he’d done this. He’d felt strongly that he needed to vote against her - he still did. Certainly, with time, he could make her see why he did what he did. There was nothing he wanted more than for them to be together. It was all he wanted in the world: a life with Rose. He’d had no choice but to vote the way he had. Surely she could see that. He could make her understand, he was sure of it. 

But he should have told her. She never should have had to find out what he’d done from Adam _fucking_ Mitchell. Ian should have told her beforehand what he’d intended to do. And since he didn’t do _that_ , he should have told her while they were still in Barcelona, after it was done. 

Rose deserved better than him. She deserved… _everything_. Ian wanted to give it to her, wanted to fulfill her dreams, her every wish. But maybe he wasn’t the right man to do that. He was a bastard, always had been. Should have known better than to think he was anything else. Maybe he wasn’t even _capable_ of being anything else. 

No. Fuck _that._ It was his job to fight like hell for things that didn’t even matter to him. But Rose _mattered_. She was the most important thing in his world. He’d fight _harder_ than hell to keep her.

And he’d win. 

The lift bell dinged off to his right, and he glanced towards it. Clara and Amy got out, flanking Rose. Her nose and eyes were red, and most of the makeup she’d put on that morning while he teased her from the doorway was gone. His heart lurched. 

When she spotted him, she burst into tears. Amy enfolded her into a hug and shot Ian a dirty look. Clara rubbed her back and did the same. 

Right. He’d had enough of this. These two young women weren’t going to keep him away from Rose. He looked around, checking to see if there was anybody nearby. Not seeing anyone, he stepped forward, gently pried Rose from Amy’s arms, put his arm around her, and started shepherding her away. 

“Ian,” Clara started.

“Guard the door. Both of you,” he ordered, then opened the door to a little-used copy room, pushing Rose inside, and closing the door behind them. He turned around to face her, and she watched him with big, red, wet eyes.

“Rose…”

She burst into tears again, burying her face in her hands. Ian felt as if his very soul were being ripped from his body. He pulled her into his arms, needing to touch her. She went without protest, but didn’t uncover her face. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, swaying her on the spot. “I’m so fucking sorry. Please forgive me, Rose.” Ian put his mouth against her hair, kissing her. “I’m so sorry. I love you.”

“Don’t,” she told him in a strangled voice, taking a step back from him. “Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that.”

He was taken off guard. “What?”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You don’t get to do what you did then turn around and say you love me.”

Ian’s blood froze in his veins and his body went rigid. She couldn’t possibly think - “I did it -” he started to shout, then gritted his teeth and tempered his voice. “Rose, sweetheart...I did it _because_ I love you! I want to be with you. That’s why I voted against you, so we could be together!”

“I know that!”

“Then what the fuck is the problem!?” he cried, mindless of the fact that they were at work, too frustrated - and, frankly, terrified - to care. 

“Don’t swear at me!” she retorted, her lip quivering, and before he knew what was happening, she was crying again. 

Ian sighed. Clara had been right: he knew shit about women. But he did know that he loved _this_ woman, he’d hurt her, and she was crying because of him. So he gathered her close again, murmuring apologies and endearments into her hair. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Please forgive me.”

She let go of her face, putting her arms around his waist and crying harder. Two steps forward, one step back. He rocked her gently.

The knock sounded at the door, and he growled in frustration before he opened it a crack. 

“The fuck do you want?”

“People are starting to look at us funny,” Clara told him through clenched teeth. “You need to hurry.”

“Hold your fucking horses,” he snapped. 

Rose snuffled. “Don’t be mean to them, they’re helping us.”

He didn’t respond to that, just grabbed her upper arms in a loose but firm hold and bent down so that he was on her level. Time was running out, and there were things that had to be said immediately.

“Sweetheart, listen to me. I need you to listen, alright?” Rose wouldn’t meet his eyes, but she nodded. “I need two things from you. Just two things, that’s all.”

“What?”

“I need you to let me talk to you when I get off work, let me explain. We don’t have the time right now, but I need to talk to you. Will you let me do that?” She nodded, still not looking at him, and relief washed over him. “Alright. Okay. Good.” He took a breath and - just because he needed to - he kissed her forehead before he went on. “Second, I need you to understand that I love you.” Her shoulders shook in his hands and she burst into tears again. He just stood back up and pulled her back into his arms, swaying her again. “I love you, sweetheart. You have to know that.” 

She didn’t - or couldn’t - calm down. Sobs still racked her, and Ian was starting to panic. They were out of time, and he had no choice but to talk to her later, to leave things as they were for the moment and repair the damage later. This couldn’t be worked out right away. He cursed under his breath where she couldn’t hear. 

Ian had expected her to be angry and hurt by what he’d done, and Clara had warned him that she was crying, but he hadn’t been prepared to see Rose like this. She wasn’t responding to the comfort he offered her, the touches and caresses and soft words. He felt completely helpless, out of control, and had no idea what else to do. The only thing he could do was get her out of the building to safety. Gritting his teeth against the sound of Rose’s upset, he leaned over to open the door a crack. 

“Clara? Amy?”

The two women filed into the cramped space, and Amy shut the door behind them as Rose’s crying died down. Ian waited until it was closed before he spoke. 

“Amy, I need you to take Rose home. I’ll cover your being gone.”

Amy nodded, but Rose protested through her tears. “I don’t need -”

“Rose, listen.” He softly caught her chin in his hand and turned it up to face him. “You’re beautiful, you’re always beautiful, but you’ve obviously been crying. If you go back to work, there will be uncomfortable questions. Please, just go home.”

“I can drive myself.”

“No,” came all three of the voices in the small room. Amy cut in. “I’ll drive you. You’re not entirely safe right now.”

Rose looked up at Ian and he nodded at her, brushing an errant strand out of her face, dragging his knuckles along the back of her cheek when he did. “Go with Amy, sweetheart. I’ll come to yours as soon as I get off.”

Her voice was so weak, he almost didn’t hear her. “Promise?”

“I fucking swear.” Unable to resist, he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, ignoring the other two people in the room. She allowed it, then burrowed into his chest a little more. 

“Amy, Clara? Would you give us a little coverage? We’re right behind you.”

The two women stepped back out of the room, and Ian caught the door before it closed, taking her limp hand into his. She didn’t resist, but he’d grown accustomed to the feel of her wrapping her fingers around his anytime they held hands - and they held hands _a lot_. It was a small intimacy that he’d come to enjoy with her...their fingers interlaced gave him a feeling of solidarity, of completeness, that he didn’t quite have when they weren’t touching. She’d always seemed to enjoy it as much as he did, but now her hand was limp in his, just lying there passively.

His Rose was many things, but ‘passive’ was not one of them. His discomfort grew.

The door to the copy room looked out onto the hall and someone passed by in a blur, going to the lift. There wasn’t time for him to think, he had to get Rose out of the building. But before she went, he took advantage of the last second of semi-privacy to kiss her, one last time. 

“I love you.”

She didn’t answer, and his heart clenched painfully. They stepped into the corridor and Rose let go of his hand right away. Ian knew she had to, he didn’t believe it was anything personal, but it still hit him like a blow to the solar plexus. 

Amy put her arm around Rose and led her to the lift. Ian watched the whole way, sad, angry, and at a loss. She was hurt, and he was supposed to be the one to be able to fix it. It was supposed to be him. That was his _job_ , but this young woman he barely knew was comforting Rose and taking her away from him. He wanted to shout, to bollock someone, to do something to make someone else feel as bad as he felt. This entire situation, this _entire fucking situation_ was to blame. He should be able to be with the woman he loved, and he longed to tell the entire firm to fuck off.

But he couldn’t, just as he couldn’t lose his temper. He had to stand here and watch as Rose was led away so that she could go cry alone, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it but watch it happen, helpless.

When she turned around to give him a small wave, he returned it with one corner of his mouth quirked up. It was all he could manage.

The lift door closed behind Rose and Amy, and he let out an expansive breath, running his hand down his face, trying to push away what couldn’t be dealt with in the moment and focus on what _could_ be. “Right. I need to figure out some sort of cover -”

Clara cut him off before he could complete his thought. “ _You_ need to go to your office and change your shirt.”

Ian looked down to see that there were smears of Rose’s wet makeup all over him, stains that would invite questions he couldn’t answer.

“Fuck,” he muttered. 

“Yeah. Go change your shirt.”

He nodded, sighing. “Alright. Then I’ll talk to Sarah Jane -”

“ _I’ll_ talk to Sarah Jane. I’ll tell her that Rose ate something at lunch that disagreed with her, and Amy has taken her home. You need to stay _completely_ out of it.”

“Yeah,” he agreed absently. “Yeah, I do.”

Clara gave him a push in the direction of his office. “Clean shirt. Now. _Go_.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

~*~O~*~

Rose slid into the passenger seat of Amy’s car, still sniffling a little. Amy got in beside her and cranked the car, backing it out of the space. She flicked her turn signal on, then pulled out into the street.

The two women rode in silence for a while, until Rose’s eyes widened and she gasped a little.

“What? What is it?”

“My car! What are we going to do about my car?”

“Calm down,” Amy told her. “I’m sure Ian has some plan or another for it.”

“We can’t just _leave_ it there all night! What will people say?”

“They won’t say anything, just assume you were sick or something. You’re worrying over a small matter.”

“It’s not like Ian and I can ride into work together in the morning.”

“Rose. It’s alright. I’m sure that you and Ian will figure something out. It’ll be fine.”

She wasn’t so sure, but did her best to accept what Amy was telling her anyway. Then something else occurred to her. 

“You’re calling him ‘Ian’.”

Amy smirked. “Yeah, well, he’s dating my best friend and I’m keeping his secret. I figure I’m entitled to use his first name.”

Rose grinned a little - the first time in hours - then settled back into the seat, pulling her coat more snugly around her. 

“You were right, you know,” Amy cut into her thoughts. 

“About what?”

“He’s not what I thought. Not with you.”

“I told you,” Rose said, smug. 

“Don’t rub it in,” Amy shot back. 

“So you see what I’ve been saying now?”

Amy nodded. “Yeah. I never would have thought him capable of being so sweet, but he really is tender with you.”

“He says he loves me,” Rose said quietly.

“It shows.”

Rose gave Amy a betrayed look. “How can you say that after what he did?”

“You mean voting ‘no’ so that you two could be together?”

She felt a bit petty. “It’s not the vote so much, it’s that he didn’t tell me about it.”

“He was almost certainly worried that doing so would hurt you. Yes, he should have told you, but I don’t think he was being malicious by keeping it from you.”

Rose stewed on that for a minute. She didn’t think he’d intended to be malicious, but he _had_ hurt her. 

“Can I give you some advice?”

“I’m sure you’re going to,” Rose replied dryly.

“As someone who’s married -”

She snorted. “For all of two months.”

“Three months,” Amy said dismissively, then plowed ahead. “Don’t let this fester. If he comes over and wants to talk about it, talk about it with him. Get it resolved. Forgive him. You’ll only be making yourself miserable if you don’t.”

She suspected that Amy was right, but didn’t want to say as much. But she didn’t know if he’d be able to say anything that eased the hurt she was feeling. Ian loved her. She knew that. She’d have to be blind not to see it and a fool to doubt it. But this vote felt like a betrayal - even though it shouldn’t have, really. She should have seen it coming. It was the most logical thing to do in the situation - hell, in his mind, he probably shouldn’t have _needed_ to tell her what he’d done, because it was just common sense. He probably thought she was a daft, overreacting child, throwing a hissy fit for no good reason. 

_No_ , she stopped herself. Ian loved her, and he’d apologized to her. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, and she knew it. He didn’t think she was stupid, or childish, or being weak. 

So what was really bugging her? If she knew why he voted and knew he loved her, what was the problem, really? Why was she so unspeakably hurt?

“Don’t go to bed angry, is what I’m saying,” Amy interrupted her train of thought. “My Nan used to say that, and it’s been good advice.”

“Yeah,” Rose murmured, looking out the window at the passing scenery, her mind on nothing and everything.

~*~O~*~

Ian climbed the stairs to Rose’s flat, debating whether he should use his key or knock. By the time he reached the door, he had his key out, having decided. “Rose?” he called out when he opened the door. “Sweetheart?”

She didn’t answer, so he shut and locked the door, then started a little search for her. She wasn’t in the kitchen or on the couch, so that left her bedroom or the loo. He knew she’d kill him if he invaded the loo, so he went to her bedroom. 

He spotted her lying on her side, asleep, her knees brought up to her chest and her hands lying relaxed by her mouth. She’d changed into her favorite after-work lounging outfit of leggings and a jumper, and her hair was down, flared out behind her on the pillow. 

Standing in the doorway, Ian just watched her sleep for a minute. She was beautiful no matter what, but with her defenses down, unguarded like this, she was gorgeous. His heart swelled with love for her, and the pride that came with knowing she was his. _Please God, let her still be his_.

She’d taken off her makeup, and he could see that her eyes and nose were still red. He’d done that to her, he’d made her cry, and he hated himself for it. 

_I should probably go. Leave her to stew in whatever anger she has and we can talk about it when she’s ready._

_No_. He’d come here to plead forgiveness, and that’s what he was going to do. He wouldn’t leave until it was done. But first, he was going to give in to the overwhelming desire to touch her, to hold her. 

He toed his shoes off as he unbuttoned his jacket and laid it over the foot of the bed. His tie was untied next, and he unbuttoned the top of his oxford as he circled the bed. Rose didn’t stir when he sat on it and slid over to her, but when he put his arm around her, she jumped. 

“Hey, hey, sweetheart,” he soothed her in a breathy voice. “It’s alright. It’s just me.”

She looked at him for a minute like she was sizing him up as she woke up, gauging his intent, then lay back down, giving him her back. Ian tried not to let that hurt, just lay down behind her, spooning against her. She allowed the touch, and didn’t resist when he threaded his fingers through hers. When he slid his arm under her neck for her to use as a pillow, she lifted her head to let him through. That, he felt, was encouraging, and he took a bit of heart. 

They lay together silently for awhile, the only motion between them the rise and fall of their chests with each breath and the steady circle of Ian’s thumb on the back of her hand. Neither spoke, and he hoped she could feel the love radiating from him. 

“I bet it all on you,” she said after a while.

He didn’t bother pretending that he didn’t know what she meant. “I know.”

“I risked everything to be with you. Still am.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“I understand why you did it,” she said. “It hurts, but I’m not angry about that.”

Ian rushed in. “I should have told you, I never should have -”

She cut him off. “I’m not upset about that, either. Not in the way you’re thinking. In fact, I’m not really _angry_ at all, about any of it. But I am hurt and humiliated.”

He was confused. “Humiliated? I don’t understand…”

“You told the partners that I was too pretty. That I was a distraction. Didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, not entirely sure why that would be humiliating. 

“Is that true?” she asked, her voice clotted with tears. 

“Rose -”

“Is it true, Ian?”

“You’re gorgeous, sweetheart. The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life. Forty-six years, I’ve seen a lot of people. You leave them all in the dust.”

“Am I a distraction?”

“You caught my eye the second you walked in the door, and I could barely think of anything but you. It only got worse as the year went on.”

“So that’s what you think of me?” Her voice cracked. “I’m...what did Adam say? Disruptive to the workplace or something?”

Anger ripped through him when he thought of fucking Adam breaking her heart like this, until he remembered that the little fucker wasn’t to blame. It was Ian, it was all Ian. Guilt clutched him, then, and he tried to explain, near desperate.

“I had to give them a reason for my vote, sweetheart. You’re perfect to me, absolutely fucking perfect. What reason could I possibly have given them? You like too much vinegar on your chips? Your feet freeze at night? So I took a truth about you that’s positive and spun it into a negative. I made something up that was true enough to be plausible.”

She sniffled. “Do you really think I’m disruptive?”

Ian rolled her to face him. She hid her face in his chest at once so he couldn’t see her crying. Instead of pushing her, he rested his chin on the top of her head and ran his hands up and down her back while she cried. There was nothing to say in that moment; she wasn’t ready to hear it, so he just whispered soothing nonsense.

When she calmed, he pulled her back from himself a bit, trying to catch her eye. “Rose, look at me.” She wiped her eyes then did as asked. “You are gorgeous and you distract me every minute of every day. Fuck, even my _dreams_ are full of you. Okay? That’s because I’m in love with you.” She nodded sadly and looked away, lowering her chin, but he caught it with a crooked finger. “That said, I did not mean what I told the partners. You’re not just a pretty fucking face. You’re clever and quick and you’re...everything. At least to me.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she ducked her head again. He gathered her close to him, going back to whispering soothing nonsense and apologies. 

“Can you ever forgive me, sweetheart?”

“That depends,” she said against his chest, snuffling, then pulling back to look at him with red eyes. “Do you think you can keep from reducing me to a pretty bit of scenery from here on?”

“Rose, you know I don’t -”

“I know you don’t think that, but you trivialized everything I’ve done, everything I’ve accomplished. I clawed my way out of the estates with my bare hands, and you made me sound like an airhead, like Solicitor Barbie or something.”

“You’re not Solicitor Barbie.”

“I know I’m not. But now that thought is in the partners’ heads, and I'll have to work twice as hard to prove myself.”

Ian squirmed internally. “I’m sorry, Rose. I never meant… I was just trying to make a way for us to be together. Properly together.”

“I know,” she sniffled, then buried her face back down into his chest.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You’ll never know how sorry I am.”

She was quiet for a minute, then spoke softly into his shirt. He could barely hear her, but her words were blessedly clear when she spoke them. “I forgive you, Ian. I’ll always forgive you.”

Ian felt as if a hundred pounds had been lifted off of him. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he told her, kissing her temple. He held her for a while, not pressing her for anything, not even when she stopped hiding her face, no matter how desperately he needed to hear that she loved him. He just held her, enjoying the warmth of her body.

“What time is it?” she asked a bit later, sitting up a little and squinting around the room.

“Half four.”

Her eyes widened and she looked down at him. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re supposed to be at work!”

“Oh.” He looked sheepish. “Clara kicked me out of the office. Said I was useless at the moment. Doing more harm than good, that sort of thing.” Rose looked at him speculatively for a moment, and he grew a little uncomfortable. “What?”

“You love me.”

“Said so, didn’t I?”

“No, I mean it,” she shook her head. “You really, properly love me.”

He sat up, facing her, and cupped her cheek. “Sweetheart, I’m going to be shit at this. I’m going to fuck everything up over and over, and you’re going to wonder if I’m more trouble than I’m worth. The answer will be yes, by the way.” Rose snorted a little laugh. “But no matter how much I fuck things up, it will never be on purpose, and you can rest completely assured that I had the best of fucking intentions. I’ll never mean to be an arsehole, not to you. There’s nothing I love better than you, now or ever.”

Her eyes filled with tears again, and he dared to believe that they were happy tears this time. “I love you, too.”

Ian caught her in a kiss before the tears could spill.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~*~*~ _The Smut Fairy appears and shakes her Sparkly Smut Dust liberally over the second half of the chapter._ ~*~*~

_7 Feburary, 2017_

The sounds of his Les Paul filled the study, but Ian was barely aware that he was playing. His mind was on other things. 

Adam _fucking_ Mitchell was sniffing around Rose again. Ian had caught him by her desk twice since the little twat had told her about the nay vote; apparently, he felt like she owed him. He had overheard the fucker three days before.

Ian had sent Rose a gigantic bouquet of roses in pink and yellow, the biggest one he could find that wasn’t completely impractical. There was no reason behind it, really, no special occasion, he’d just wanted to make her smile. Her excited text when they’d been delivered to her desk was more than thanks enough. 

He’d just gotten back to the office from court and was on his way back to his own office when he’d rounded the corner and heard Rose speaking. 

“Thanks, Adam, but I’ve got a boyfriend.”

Part of him had recoiled at the word, but the bigger part of him felt like puffing out his chest with pride. 

That thought had been interrupted, however, by the sound of Adam’s laughter. 

“Oh, that’s rich,” he’d said. “Pull the other one.”

“It’s true, I do. Look, he sent me flowers today, just because. So you see, I couldn’t possibly go out with you. I’m very happy with my bloke.”

Ian had had that strange compulsion to puff out his chest again. 

“You know, Rose,” the little fucker had said, and Ian instantly disliked his oily tone. “There’s no need to send flowers to yourself to try to make me chase you.”

He’d almost been able to _see_ Rose stiffening, her back going straight and hands clenching. The steel in her voice had told him he was right: “I’m doing no such thing. These are from my boyfriend.” There wasn’t any desire to puff out his chest any longer, only the desire to beat the fucking twat hanging around Rose’s desk to a pulp.

It had been quiet for just a second, then Rose exclaimed, “Oi! That’s mine!”

Adam’s laughter was clear and loud. “Oh, that’s rich. Your boyfriend doesn’t even have a name. Calls himself ‘the Doctor’. Doctor who?”

“None of your business,” Rose had snarled. 

“I know you’re making this up. You understand that, don’t you?”

“He’s real,” Amy had piped up. “I’ve met him. And he loves Rose.”

The little fucker had snorted, and Ian had done his best to convince himself not to go out there and punch the little shit’s teeth down his throat. He’d known he couldn’t go out there, though. It would create questions if he were to leap to Rose’s defense. That said, if the little fucker didn’t get away from her soon - _very_ soon - Ian wouldn’t be liable for what would happen. 

“I think I told you,” Adam had said in a lower voice, causing Ian to strain to hear. “If you’re concerned about causing some controversy because we’re co workers, you shouldn’t be. I can be discreet.”

“Yeah, no, I’m not worried about that,” Rose’s voice had been chilly. “I told you: I’m happy with my bloke.”

“Go away, Adam,” Amy had said, but had been ignored.

Adam had scoffed. “Your _boyfriend_. Sure.” Ian’s had clutched the handle of his briefcase and he ground his teeth to nubs. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk you into that date you owe me.” The little fucker’s voice had receded as he left her, and Ian had resisted the urge to run the upstart down and beat him without mercy.

He had stepped out from behind the corner just in time to hear Rose mutter, “Fat fucking chance, you little psycho,” then Amy had asked if she was alright.

He’d grinned the tiniest amount as he’d walked by, loving her spunk, watching her covertly, needing to see her face, feeling almost desperate for a reassuring smile. Rose hadn’t looked up and he had been denied. He’d gone to his office in a foul mood, and he’d ended up taking it out on an associate who’d lost a simple B&E case. 

It was probably for that reason that Clara was reluctant when she’d told him earlier today that Adam had been hanging around Rose’s desk again, questioning her claim to having a boyfriend, scoffing when she rebuffed him. Clara had said that both she and Amy had stepped up on Rose’s behalf, verifying - again - that she had a boyfriend, but the twat seemed determined that his chain was being jerked and Rose was available. Ian had been livid, and hadn’t even blinked this time at being called Rose’s boyfriend. 

Now he stood in his study, playing his guitar, tortured by the knowledge that a man Rose’s own age was pursuing her. The Mitchell kid, for all that he was a twat, was good looking. He was young and had a long future ahead of him, probably successful. Everything that would appeal to a woman Rose’s age, Adam had. 

Worse than that, he thought, was the fact that Rose _wasn’t telling him_ what was going on. She had no idea that he’d overheard the exchange with Adam and hadn’t reported it to any of the senior partners, either. It was like she was pretending it wasn’t happening. He’d intentionally let work bleed into personal just one time and asked leading questions like he would with a reluctant witness, trying to get the story out of her, but she hadn’t taken the bait. He wanted to know if chat ups from the little twat were something she had to endure a lot. He suspected they were. But what could he do? Rose wasn’t complaining, so his hands were tied. 

And that was the worst part, wasn’t it? _Rose wasn’t complaining._ Insecurity burned like a wildfire within him. Even though she slept with him nearly every night, curled around him and restless if she wasn’t touching him somehow, what was to keep her there? He was forty-six years old and looked ten years older. His temper was legendary, and he’d never thought he was especially good-looking. Even when his hair had been a color other than grey, what could she possibly ever see in him?

He was mystified as to what attracted Rose to him. She didn’t seem remotely interested in his money or authority, and God knew they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. He tried not to question it. Despite his confusion over the fact, he believed her when she said she loved him. There was absolutely no evidence to the contrary.

But he had lived long enough to know that it could all slip away from him in a moment. Adam fucking Mitchell was doing his damnedest to _take_ it away. 

Ian debated his options. He could leave the situation be until Rose finally snapped and broke the little fucker’s nose. Amy and Clara would both testify that Adam had it coming, and Ian wouldn’t let her be sacked over it. But he didn’t want her to have to be harassed on a near daily basis until either Adam got the picture or she was forced to commit assault. 

His other option was to get involved. He could honestly say, if asked, that Clara had alerted him to the situation, reporting it as a problem and as such, he would be well within his rights to put a stop to it, to shitcan the arsehole. He wasn’t so sure that was the best course of action, though. If he sacked the little fucker, there could be deeper questions than he was comfortable answering. In addition, Rose had yet to complain, and it could be argued that she didn’t mind - and might even _welcome_ Adam’s attentions. He clenched his hands at the very thought, causing his guitar to protest loudly. 

If he were to intervene in any capacity, there would be questions. He could be asked why, and Clara’s support could only buy him so much cover. He thought they would be safe, but couldn’t be absolutely sure. Besides that, his Rose was independent and proud of it. He’d learned that about her early on, that she was no damsel in distress, and he loved it. Still, his instinct was to protect her, to shelter her, to keep her safe. He had a duty of care. That little twat’s persual of her felt threatening to Ian. 

He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold out before he stepped up and ran the little fucker off. Call him a neanderthal if you like, but Rose was _his_ , and the thought of another man trying to - 

“What are you playing?”

Ian stilled the strings and spun around to find Rose leaning against the door to his study, her arms crossed and a smile on her face. She’d gone out with Amy directly after work, so she still had her professional clothes on: a pencil skirt with a black and white geometric design, black stilettos, a black cardigan sweater partially buttoned over a white lace camisole, and a simple set of matching gold-tone jewelry that she wore often, with multiple outfits. He was sure it was costume jewelry, and very much wanted to change that. He wanted to spoil her fucking rotten.

“Have fun with Amy?” he asked instead. 

“I did,” she confirmed, pushing off the door and starting towards him. Her movements were sexy and sinuous, putting into mind his long-held fantasy of bending her over his desk - that desk in the corner had been the subject of numerous fantasies, in fact. She probably didn’t even know she was swaying her hips like that, driving him mad. Her sexuality was effortless.

 _And all mine._

“What’s got you wound up?” she asked with a little half-smile, getting closer to him.

“Hmm?” He tore his eyes away from her hips and met her eyes. “Oh. Nothing.”

She squinted him, as if trying to see him more clearly. “You’re lying.”

_She’s getting too good at that._

Rose took the final step to close the distance between them and put her hand on his cheek, stroking lightly. “What’s the matter, Ian?”

Something in him relaxed at the touch and sound of his name. She loved him. Only God knew why, but she loved him. He leaned into her touch a little, relishing the feel of her cool fingers against his cheek. One hand came up to hold hers in place, and he turned his head and kissed the inside of her wrist. 

“There’s nothing wrong, precious girl,” he told her, his voice sotto and soft. “Not now that you’re here.”

Rose gave him a skeptical look. “Alright, then. What _was_ bothering you?”

“It’s not important.”

“It is if it was upsetting you.”

Ian sighed a little. He could stonewall her or change the subject, but he doubted she’d fall for it. More likely, if he knew his girl, she wasn’t going to let him get away without telling her. He would really rather not, but who knew? It might be good for his soul to get it off his chest. 

“That little fucker Adam is still bothering you. I overheard him,” he interrupted her before she could begin, “at the beginning of the week when he was going on about your flowers. Then Clara told me about today.”

“It’s nothing to worry about, Ian, really.”

“He’s fucking _harassing_ the woman I love at her work. He’s not backing off despite being told that you’re not interested by more than one person. The little twat is convinced he’ll have you. I think I have the right to be concerned, sweetheart.”

She smiled up at him. “He’s harmless. Soon he’ll get the picture and back off.”

“Not soon enough. He should already be long gone. You shouldn’t have to tell him ‘no’ more than once. I could understand him asking again after you cancelled at Christmas, that makes sense, but asking over and over and over…”

“Ian…”

“This is a fireable offense, Rose. I should have come out there today when Clara told me what he’d just done and sacked his arse. Why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

“Well, first of all, it’ll get him sacked -”

“Damn right it will! And with good reason!”

She ignored his outburst. “And second of all, people will wonder why I don’t just go ahead and date him.”

“You’ve already put it out there that you’ve got a bloke. You saying no to him because you have a bloke shouldn’t be a big deal at all.” Even though he wasn’t bothered by the other b-word, he still couldn’t bring himself to call himself that.

“Yes, I have. But I’m small potatoes and nobody pays much attention to me. If Adam _makes_ it a big deal, it could be a problem. We could be discovered. You’ll get in trouble.”

“And you, too. Is that what’s holding you back?”

“No.”

“Then tell Sarah Jane!” he cried. “You need to fucking _tell_ someone, Rose. You’re making yourself a victim and you don’t have to. Please don't put yourself through that. Not for me.”

“I’m doing it for both of us!”

“I can’t tolerate knowing that you’re going through this, sweetheart. Knowing that that little fucker is sexually harassing you... Right.” He nodded, decision made. “I’m sacking the little shithead the next time he does it.” 

“You can’t do that, Ian. It’ll create speculation if you rush to my defense.”

He let go of his guitar and brought both hands up to her face, holding it still so that he could look into her eyes. She laid her hands over his forearms. 

“Rose, sweetheart, I don’t give a fuck _what_ it creates if it keeps you safe.”

“I don’t think he’d ever harm me. He’s just persistent.”

“He genuinely believes that you’ll fall into his arms. He believes that he’ll have you and you’ll be his.”

“He won’t. He never will. I’m yours.”

Ian dipped his head and kissed her softly, just a slow, chaste press of his lips against hers. It was all that felt safe in his current mood. Rose squeezed his forearms, then relaxed, giving him his lead. He took it, parting her lips with his tongue and tasting her. As always, one little taste wasn’t enough and he deepened it, craving that closeness with her. 

He slid one hand around to the back of her head, holding her in place, and put the other around her waist, pulling her to him. The guitar squawked when her body pressed against the strings, but they both ignored it. Rose laid her hands on his chest - not pushing him away, just resting there, then slid them up around his neck. 

The kiss grew steadily more carnal until Ian felt forced to break it. Rose felt no such compulsion and when his mouth left hers, she simply went to work on his neck and jaw, nibbling and sucking. 

“Rose...sweetheart…” he started, closing his eyes against the feel of her mouth on his skin. “We can’t. Not right now.”

“Why not?” She only lifted her lips from the pulse point under his jaw for a second. 

“Because I’m feeling protective and possessive. I may not be able to do ‘slow and sweet’ tonight.”

“What’s the other option?” 

“Hard and fast. Claiming you. Making you mine.”

She chuckled against the hollow of his throat. “Promise?” Then she nipped it and his brain shorted out. His cock had been hardening for a while, but with her sultry tone, it stiffened more.

“I’m serious, Rose,” he told her while she licked his pulse point and started on the buttons of his oxford. “I’m in the mood to just take what I want.”

He felt her smile stretch across the skin of his neck. “Really now?” she purred, causing him to shiver and his cock to harden even further - now it was pressing insistently against the body of his guitar. “How can I talk you into doing just that?”

“Sweetheart…” he began, but then his mouth was busy kissing hers almost desperately and his restraint snapped. He needed her, needed to claim her as his and his alone, and she was offering herself to him. Who was he to say no?

“Desk,” he gasped. “Go to the desk and bend over.”

Rose pulled back from him, giving him the fucking _filthiest_ of smiles, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him softly. 

“Don’t be long.”

“Sweetheart, you’re lucky I’m not carrying you there myself.”

Her hips swayed as she walked across the room and this time, he knew she _was_ doing it on purpose. He swallowed hard, grasping for the remnants of his control. The guitar came off and went on the stand, the amp was powered off and his lucky pick was dropped in the little dish on top of the amp. All that done, he prowled across the room to his desk. 

As instructed, Rose had gone around behind it and was bent a little, her palms flat on the ink blotter. Ian flexed and relaxed his hands, itching to touch her, to grab her and fuck her absolutely senseless. He rounded the desk, circling until he was behind her and put his hands on her hips, his control straining. His hips came forward of their own volition, grinding his cock against her bum, and she pushed back. Ian groaned at the pleasant friction.

“I’ve fantasized about this, you know,” she said, surprising him. 

He slid his hands down the outside of her thighs and grabbed fistfuls of her skirt, tugging it upwards. “Have you now?” he answered her, lips skating along the skin of her neck, inhaling her scent.

“Mmhm, all the time. I wondered what it would be like if you took me over your desk.”

“I’ve wondered the same thing,” he admitted. “Rather often.” The skirt was bunched around her waist and he massaged the bare globes of her bum, still rutting her slowly but insistently. 

“Should we find out?” Rose asked, giving him a sultry look over her shoulder. 

“Oh, Miss Tyler,” he growled, his brogue so thick you could cut it with a knife. “We’re going to find out.”

She rocked backwards, pressing her bum against his rock-hard cock and grinding a little. “Show me,” she commanded. 

His tenuous grasp on his control slipped. Her tiny knickers were tugged down and out of his fucking way, and he pushed gently on her shoulder. She took the hint and bent further over the desk, laying her chest flat against it. Ian took a minute to step back and look at the mouth-watering display spread across his desk. This woman was brilliant, gorgeous, sexier than ought to be fucking _legal_ , and she was fucking _his_. All his. 

And he was about to prove it. 

_You’re the luckiest fucking bastard alive, Docherty._

His foot went between her high-heeled feet and he kicked each one gently, encouraging her to spread them. She did so, and before he could help himself, he’d grabbed her by the hips and ground his pelvis against her, swearing under his breath at the sensation against his cock. 

Realizing through his fogged brain that instead of torturing himself, he could be actually _fucking_ her, he slid one hand across the smooth skin of her bum, then down between her legs. Once there, he parted her folds and, feeling desperate for some part of him to be _inside_ her already, he slid two of his fingers into her wet channel. 

Rose gasped and he liked that sound, so he started thrusting his fingers in and out, a bit more quickly and with more force than he normally did. She didn’t seem to be complaining, judging by her squirming and the mewling little sounds she made. The thought that she wanted this, wanted him this way, wanted him to take her hard, aroused him more than he’d ever thought possible, and with his free hand he set about getting his trousers off, unbuckling his belt and tugging at his zipper. 

Still pumping her, he shoved his trousers down around his thighs and in two swift moves, he replaced his fingers with his cock. Rose gave a high-pitch yelp of surprise when the sensation changed as he thrust himself into her, then made a sound somewhere between a moan and a purr, her body relaxing. Ian could relate. His head lolled back and he sighed with relief at feeling her around him again. 

The relief only lasted a moment before Rose started pressing back against him. He didn’t think he could deny her if he tried, and he’d promised her hard and fast. He intended to deliver. 

He gripped her hips and gave a couple of tentative strokes, in and out, burying himself to the hilt and sliding almost all the way out, enjoying the way her heat clutched around him. 

“Ian,” she whined.

“What, sweetheart?” 

“More. Please.”

 _Oh, I’ll give you more._

The grip on her hips tightened, and he slammed himself into her. She made a grunting little impact noise, then looked over her shoulder and gave him the same grin - naughty, almost mischievous. 

His control snapped almost audibly and he was pounding her, clutching her firmly enough to leave bruises, fucking her so hard that some dim corner at the back of his mind worried that he may be hurting her. Rose squealed and shouted ‘yes’, his name and ‘more’, so he assumed that she was alright and kept fucking her the way he’d promised to. 

Ian looked down to see his cock pistoning in and out of her, mesmerized by the sight. If he had his way, no man would ever see this again. No man would ever touch her again. She was his, and he was bound and damned determined to make sure she stayed that way for the rest of their lives.

“Mine,” he grunted before he realized he’d done it. 

“Yours,” Rose agreed, hanging onto the side of the desk for leverage. Ian bent over her, putting his mouth right near her ear, slowing down his fucking just a bit so he could. 

“I don’t share, sweetheart. When I say you’re mine, that’s what I mean.”

She was biting her lip with her cheek pressed against the top of his desk, but she nodded. “I’m yours. All yours. Nobody’s but yours.”

Satisfied, he kissed her cheek with a tenderness that was contradictory to the force of his cock pounding into her, then stood back up, increasing speed and force. Rose cried out and started babbling, signalling that she was close. 

“I’m gonna come, Ian. I’m gonna come. Please…”

He sped up more, determined to push her over the edge before the hot ball of pressure at the base of his spine made him lose himself inside her. 

“Come, Rose. Come, sweetheart. _Fuck…_ Come for me,” he pleaded. 

She did, flying apart in front of him as she clenched around his cock, and that additional pressure was just right. One stroke, two, three, and he exploded in a paroxysm of pleasure that left him mindless and slumped over her back. 

They were both breathing heavily, panting for air, and he released one of her hips to raise his hand, seeking hers out. When he found it, he lay his on top of it and threaded their fingers together, craving the tender intimacy he always felt when they held hands. 

Eventually he softened enough to slip out of her and he raised up, grabbing a tissue to clean them up a little. Then he collapsed backwards into his leather desk chair, trousers and pants still down, tugging a bare-arsed Rose down into his lap, circling her waist. She put her arms around his shoulders, snuggling against him, and he laid his head against her chest. The two of them leaned against the back of the chair, comfortably wrapped in each other’s embrace. 

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you, too.” He turned his face up for a kiss, and Rose smiled before she gave it to him. 

Ian basked in the glow of this woman and her love, tightening his arms around her just for the pleasure of her proximity. He may never know what attracted her to him, but he honestly didn’t give a fuck. She loved him, and he didn’t care why. 

They sat together for a few minutes, enjoying the afterglow and each other. After a while, though, Ian broke the silence.

“Rose?”

“Yeah?”

“If that little fucker comes around again, I’m going to get involved. Nobody may know it, but you’re mine, and I’ll not stand for him trying to take what’s fucking mine. Not anymore.”

She grinned and dipped her head to kiss his nose. “Whatever you need to do.”


	18. Chapter 18

_10 February, 2017_

“So!” Amy chirped from the cube across from her. “You and the Doctor got any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Rose replied. “He hasn’t mentioned anything.”

“Maybe he just wants to surprise you?”

She scoffed. “Or maybe he doesn’t even realize it’s a significant date.”

“Oh, I’m betting he does,” Amy grinned. 

Rose shot her a look. “Do you know something I don’t?” Amy gave an exaggerated shrug, indicating her innocence. Rose didn’t buy it. “What do you know?”

“Nothing!” she grinned. “Honestly, you’re so paranoid!”

“I am not!” Rose protested with an answering smile. “I just want to know if I’m being conspired against.”

“I wouldn’t say anyone’s conspiring _against_ you…” Amy said, then gave a bright smile. “But seriously. I doubt that he’ll let your first holiday together go by without _some_ kind of celebration.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.” Adam stepped out from behind the cubes and gave a smarmy smile. “Hello, love.”

“I’m not your love,” Rose snapped, her skin crawling. 

“Go away, Adam,” Amy said. 

Adam tutted. “That’s not nice, Amanda.”

“It’s ‘Amy’, you sniveling twat.”

He turned to her with wide eyes. “Now, now, no need to be rude…”

“We’re trying to work.”

Adam leaned against Amy’s desk, facing Rose, crossing his arms and smiling. “Didn’t sound like you were working. Sounded like you were baiting me.”

Rose rolled her eyes so hard it hurt a little. “For fuck’s sake,” she muttered under her breath, then, louder, “Baiting you _how_?”

“Talking about this nonexistent boyfriend.”

“He _does_ exist,” Rose ground out, wishing for Ian despite the fact he couldn’t do anything. 

“ _Sure_ he does,” Adam said disbelievingly. 

Amy clicked her tongue. “Why don’t you just crawl back to your desk and leave us alone?”

“Haven’t been working at my desk lately,” he said conversationally. “I’ve been buried in the library, doing research.” Adam raised an eyebrow at Rose. “You could join me. It’s nice and quiet back there.”

“Ugh. No,” she scoffed.

“Oh, come on. After your Secret Santa gift?”

Rose went stiff and her eyes flashed. “I know _exactly_ who my Secret Santa gift was from, and it wasn’t you.”

Adam didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest, he just shrugged.

Rose shook her head and let out a great sigh. “Look, Adam, I’m really sorry, but it’s _never_ going to happen. Alright? I’ve got a bloke and I love him and that’s that. And if you keep this up, I’ll have to tell the senior partners. You’ll be punished.”

It was Adam’s turn to scoff. “The senior partners are the ones that buried me back in the back of the library. Can’t get much worse than that.”

Rose fought down a smile, knowing _exactly_ which senior partner had done that.

“Just...go away, Adam.”

“My break’s over anyway,” he said, getting to his feet. “I wanted to spend it with you. Glad I got to.”

Amy made a retching sound and again, Rose fought down a laugh. 

“I’ll see you soon, babydoll.”

“Call me ‘babydoll’ again and you’ll need your jaw wired.”

Adam raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Alright, alright. I’ll find some other pet name, then. Later.”

Rose and Amy both watched him swagger away, and Rose visibly shuddered. 

“Rose,” Amy started, turning to look at her with urgent eyes. “What he’s doing is illegal.”

“I know it is. He’ll get the message eventually. It’s just taking a _bit_ longer than I expected.”

“You have to tell your boyfriend that he’s doing this.”

“He knows.”

Amy looked at her, agog, then stage whispered. “He _knows_ and he’s not _doing_ anything about it?”

“He can’t!” Rose stage whispered back, then lowered her voice into a real whisper, leaning towards Amy. Amy leaned closer. “He wants me to report it to Sarah Jane so Adam can be sacked. No matter how much of a prat he is, I don’t want to do that to Adam. Especially when I know he’s going to back off soon. But the Doctor is pretty upset about it and…” She looked around to make sure the area was clear then lowered her voice further. “...and he says that if he catches Adam over here again, he’s going to get involved.”

Amy sat up and tossed her hair. “Good. He should.”

“I don’t want him to.”

“It needs to happen, Rose.”

Rose just sighed. “Can we go back to talking about Valentine’s Day?”

“Can’t. I have a meeting in five minutes.” She gathered a couple of things and stood up. “Think about it, Rose. You should text him right now and tell him.”

Amy went to her meeting, leaving Rose at her desk to think. She had promised to let Ian intervene if it happened again. There was nothing he could do today from out of the office, but she knew she should let him know anyway. She grinned to herself, thinking about him burying Adam in the library. 

~Marion - _you’re blurring the line again_  
~Doctor - _what did I do?_  
~Marion - _you gave Adam a bunch of shit cases to bury him in the library_  
~Doctor - _figured if he was busy working, he’d leave you the fuck alone_  
~Marion - _didn’t work_  
~Doctor - _I’m going to fucking kill him_  
~Marion - _no you’re not._  
~Doctor - _I could kill a man and get away with it_  
~Marion - _*no*, Ian_  
~Doctor - _fine. I’ll sack him_  
~Marion - _can’t do that, either._  
~Doctor - _why the fuck not?_  
~Marion - _you know you can't. people would wonder why and it could lead to uncomfortable questions_  
~Doctor - _I hate this, Rose_  
~Marion - _I know. Me too._  
~Doctor - _alright. but if he does it again I’m going to give that little fucker the bollocking of his life_  
~Marion - _works for me._

~*~O~*~

_14 February, 2017_

Historically speaking, Valentine’s Day was not Ian’s favorite holiday. He’d been able to ignore it most years, not having a significant other that required his attention. On the rare occasions that he _had_ had a girlfriend, whatever he’d done to celebrate hadn’t been in appreciation of the person or borne of any great love. It had been the bare minimum required to maintain any peace in the relationship and, if he was lucky, get some decent sex out of the deal. 

That was before Rose. The hearts and flowers made sense to him suddenly. He wanted her to have the most and best for their first Valentine’s Day together, but he knew that nothing he did would ever be enough to show her how he felt. 

Clara had come to his rescue - again - coaching him about what to get as Rose’s gift, mostly reining him in. He’d been forced to cancel an order when she strongly advised against any jewelry so early in the relationship, telling him to stick with something smaller. He patted the back pocket of his jeans. He’d gone smaller, but it was much, much bigger than it appeared from the outside. He was rather sure she’d like it, but nothing was guaranteed. 

Well, that wasn’t true, he thought, looking down at the other gifts in his hand. He knew from experience that she liked chocolate covered cherries, and yellow roses were her favorite. Those felt like pretty safe gifts to him. And if she didn’t like his big gift, at least he’d have done _something_ right.

He knocked on the door instead of unlocking it himself, liking the mental image of her opening the door to find him standing there with flowers and chocolates. She probably wouldn’t exactly be surprised, he thought as he waited, since it _was_ Valentine’s Day. But he’d told her that he had to work, hoping to throw her off his scent so he could surprise her, at least a little. She’d probably be - 

The door opened and the smile melted off his face. Rose stood there in yoga pants and a sweatshirt over fuzzy socks with her hair in a ponytail. He’d never seen her like dressed like that before, but that was fine. What was alarming was the tired look in her eyes and her pale, drawn face. 

“Jesus, sweetheart, you look like hell.”

She gave him a sour look. “Thanks ever so.”

 _Nice one, Docherty._

“That’s not...I didn’t mean it like that.”

Rose stepped away from the door, leaving it open for him to come in. He did so, grateful that she hadn’t slammed it in his face. His worry for her overrode everything, though, and he tossed the flowers and candy onto the table unceremoniously, then made a beeline towards her as he shed his coat. Once he reached her, he grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around, pulling her close and into a hug. 

“I’m sorry, Rose. I just meant that you look like you don’t feel well.”

“M’fine,” she mumbled, putting her arms around him, forgiving him without words.

“You don’t seem fine,” he worried, drawing her back to take in her face. Her brow was furrowed, indicating pain, and the usual sparkle in her eyes was dimmed. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“They’re just clothes to lounge in.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” He touched her forehead and then her neck, testing for fever. She didn’t seem warm. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? What can I do?”

“Nothing,” she insisted. “I’m fine.”

He felt absolutely helpless - and that was not a feeling that Ian Docherty handled well. “Please tell me, Rose. I can’t stand to see you like this, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it if you don’t tell me.”

“There’s nothing you can do to - _oh!_ ” She grunted, her hands going to cover her lower belly and she curled in on herself a bit, bending at the waist. 

Realization hit like lightning. “You’re on the rag.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes that were full of embarrassment, shock, and pain in equal measure. Color splashed on her pale cheeks. “Well, aren’t you just a charmer?”

“Shit,” he muttered, realizing what he’d said. “I’m sorry, Rose, I -”

“You’re just determined to put your foot in it tonight, aren’t you?”

“Sweetheart -”

“Nevermind.” She waved her hand over her shoulder. “I’m not good company tonight anyway, so you can just go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She squeaked when he scooped her up into his arms, protesting and demanding to know what he was doing. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, but wasn’t about to tell her that. He stepped into the living room while she swatted at his shoulder, but decided the couch wouldn’t suit his purposes. So he made his way to the bedroom with a Rose who had taken to grumbling about what a bloody caveman he was. He started toeing off his shoes beside the bed, still holding Rose, and she demanded to know what he was doing. 

“I’m spending Valentine’s Day with you.”

“Ian, I can’t possibly...you know I’m… _Ian_ …”

He rolled his eyes. “This is not about sex, Rose. Why do you always think that of me?”

“Then what is it?”

“It's about spending time with you. About being close. About comfort.” He set her on her feet then climbed up onto the bed, propping a couple of pillows against the headboard and leaning against them. He spread his legs and beckoned for her. “C’mere.”

There was the barest hint of a smile when she came to him, crawling up on the bed and settling between his legs, resting her back against his chest. Ian slid his hands under her arms, bringing them to rest on her belly, covering the part that hurt her in what he hoped was a comforting way. Rose laid her hands over his and leaned her head back on his shoulder. 

“Comfortable?” he asked quietly, beside her ear. She hummed, sounding content. “Good.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why wouldn’t I do this?”

“Most blokes wouldn’t.”

“I’m not most blokes, sweetheart.”

She chuckled. “No, you’re not.”

He nuzzled her hair, then spoke softly. “I can’t stand to see you in pain without trying to make it better. Even if there’s nothing I can do, I want to try. Plus it’s Valentine’s Day, and I want to spend it with you. But mainly, I’m doing it simply because I love you.”

She turned her head, craning her neck to look at him, and he turned to face her. “I love you, too, Ian.”

He gave her a little kiss. “Good. Now. Do you want to watch telly?”

Rose sighed, relaxing. “I’m happy like this for right now. But I might like to watch a bit later, if that’s alright.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He settled back against the headboard. “Whatever you want.”

She lay in his arms, and Ian let his mind wander in the silence. He’d never given any thought to the idea that Rose might actually get pregnant. She’d told him that she was on the pill and after that, the word had only flitted into his mind - a portion of a half-formed thought that was easily dismissed - every time they had sex. 

Here was the evidence that the pill had worked and she wasn’t pregnant. But would she want to be someday? Would she want children? And why wasn’t that idea horrifying to him?

Everything about Rose was different. The way he felt about her, the way he thought about her, the way he treated her. It was all different, and he knew it was because he loved her. She was almost fucking _sacred_ to him. His precious girl. No one had ever meant more, and he doubted that anyone would ever mean as much. 

Unless there was a child. 

There wasn’t any question that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, if she’d have him. But what would she expect that life to be like? Would she want children? 

If she did, he’d give them to her. He’d give her anything she wanted, anything at all, including children. 

It should have been terrifying, but it wasn’t. He couldn’t say that he was _craving_ children, but he wasn’t opposed to the idea - not with Rose. It might be nice. An adventure he thought he’d never have. 

There had been some one-sided talk about children from River in the past, talk that he’d barely fucking acknowledged. A wife and children had been expected of him, and he was prepared to do what it took to advance his career, whether he wanted it or not. Then he, Alistair and Sarah Jane had started Stewart, Docherty, and Smith, and he’d no longer needed the typical trappings. So when River had started going on about marriage more and more, he’d cut her the fuck loose without much more than a second thought. Settling down wasn’t something he’d wanted, and he couldn’t take on another wife. He was married to his career. 

But now there was Rose, and he wanted to be with her all the time. He wanted to come home to her in the evenings and wake up to her in the mornings. He wanted...her, and he wanted her forever. He wanted her to take his name, to wear his rings. He wanted to wear hers on his own hand. He wanted to spend the rest of his life making her happy. For the first time in as long as Ian could remember, his job came second - and he knew that as long as Rose stayed with him, it would never be first again.

That was perfectly alright with him. As long as he had Rose, he didn’t need anything else to make him feel fulfilled.

“You brought me flowers and chocolates for Valentine’s Day,” she murmured, nuzzling into his chest a little more.

“That’s not all I brought you,” he said, remembering suddenly. He shifted around a bit, reaching for his back pocket and withdrawing what he’d put there for safekeeping. Then he presented it to her.

Rose unfolded it partially and peered at it. “It’s a map of Europe.”

“It is,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist, leaning his chin on her shoulder. “Pick a place. Any place. Pick multiple places. I want to take you somewhere next month. I want to take you lots of somewheres.”

“Oh, Ian,” she breathed, almost cooed.

He went on, excited by her seemingly positive response. “I was thinking about Paris. We can spend a day at the Louvre. You’ll pick out your favorite painting and we’ll buy a print of it, then have it framed and hang it up.”

“There’s not enough room in my flat.”

“My flat has plenty of room.” 

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes a little wide, disbelieving. The request for her to move in with him was in his mouth, and he pursed his lips to keep it back. After a second she shook her head, looking like she was trying to clear it.

“Not France,” Rose said, an odd quality to her voice.

“Oh? Something wrong with France?”

She looked away from him, down at the map. “I...I had a bloke once who left me for a French girl for a while. He came back, but…”

Ian digested that for a moment, wanting to go back and kill the dumb fuck that had done such a thing. Swallowing his anger, he went on. “Not France, then. We could go to Naples. It’s beautiful there. Or Greece or Berlin or...anywhere you want to go, sweetheart. I’ll take you. We’ll experience it together.”

She turned around and craned her neck to kiss him. He welcomed it but was careful to keep it relatively chaste. The last thing he needed was an ill-timed erection that would make her think -

“You’re too sweet to me.”

“There you go with that fucking word again,” he griped, not meaning it. Not anymore. She could call him anything she wanted. Just so long as she called him ‘hers’.

Rose giggled, then turned back around and nestled back into him. He handed her the remote and she turned the telly on, putting it on the news until he insisted she change it to something _she_ wanted to watch. She found a movie channel that was showing some fucking insipid romantic comedy about a woman who had been a bridesmaid more times than was rational, but Ian didn’t care. She didn’t feel well and she wanted to watch it. He loved her, so he’d put up with it with minimal bitching. He stroked her belly occasionally, and Rose threaded her fingers through his. It felt good. 

When the credits rolled, she didn’t move. His former train of thought hadn’t abandoned him, though, and he asked her the question that was burning in his mind. His heart was in his throat when he spoke. “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“How long are you going to stay with me?”

She twisted her head and leaned back so that she could see him. The look in her eyes was one he didn’t recognize, and he started to backpedal. “I know we haven’t been together long -”

“Forever.”

“- but I just...what did you say?”

Rose brought her fingertips up to trace his cheek. “You asked me how long I’m going to stay with you, and I said ‘forever’.”

Wild, mad hope beat within his breast. “Yeah?”

She nodded, smiling up at him. “Yeah. I’m not going anywhere. I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

He kissed her forehead and cuddled her a little closer. “Forever, then.”

Another film came on, this one about a woman that was being a stand-in bride for a celebrity but fell in love with the (ridiculous) groom. Ian wasn’t paying any attention. Before they got very far into the movie, he realized that Rose was snoring. He couldn’t reach the remote and wasn’t about to disturb her, so he sat there for hours, watching stupid movie after stupid movie. It would have been mind-numbing under different circumstances, but tonight he didn’t care. Rose was comfortable and happy, and that was all he ever wanted. Besides, he was busy daydreaming about the future she’d just promised him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten chapters left! Hang in there!


	19. Chapter 19

_22 February, 2017_

Ian woke up curled around Rose’s back, his face in her hair. It didn’t startle him anymore to wake up with her snuggled against him, although it still felt fucking fantastic. He was certain that it always would. 

But he really needed to go ahead and get his shower. Rose was slow in the morning - slow to get up and slow to get ready - and they’d learned through trial and error that she needed more time at his flat than she did at hers. He allowed himself one kiss to Rose’s bare shoulder. The temptation to wake her with some intense foreplay was nearly overwhelming, but he tamped it down. 

Instead, he set about gently detangling himself from her, sliding away slowly. Rose made a little sound of displeasure and rolled to face him, throwing an arm and a leg across his body, effectively trapping him. 

“Love you,” she mumbled sleepily.

He grinned, stupidly happy, then kissed her forehead and whispered, “Love you too, sweetheart.”

Ian lay there for a few minutes until she fell far enough back to sleep that he could extract himself from underneath her. Once he was free, she made a little moue and grabbed his pillow, curling around that instead, burying her nose where he’d just been lying. Ian bent to kiss her forehead one more time before he went into his loo. 

A couple of minutes later he was turning on the spray and stepping into his shower. He was already fairly zen and had been since Christmas - being with Rose was nothing but good for him - but he still appreciated the time to think. As had been the case for a year, his thoughts were of Rose.

His career had trained him long ago to go over the facts of any situation before he did anything else. So he did just that while he washed his hair. 

He loved her. That was a fact. He wanted to be with her. Another fact. She’d promised to stay with him forever and they had the rest of their lives to be together. Fact, fact. 

Surely that should have factored into the decision when he had been talking about buying jewelry for Rose for Valentine’s Day. He didn’t believe for a second that Clara hadn’t known the way Rose felt. Clara fucking knew everything about everything. 

But since it _hadn’t_ factored in then and all the cards were on the table _now_ , he thought that perhaps he should reconsider the decision to buy her some jewelry. Just to show how committed he was, if for no other reason. Flowers and candy were great, trips all over Europe were fan-fucking-tastic, but he wanted her to have something tangible, something she could put her hand on that would prove how much he loved her. And, as always, he wanted to make her smile. He wasn’t any less addicted to her smile just because he saw it all the time now. Not in the least. 

He also wanted to spoil her fucking rotten.

It was too early for an engagement ring, he did know that. Despite their promises to each other, there needed to be a bit more time before he proposed. Not long though. A few months, at most. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to wait any longer. 

That would almost certainly out them, though. They could _maybe_ keep an engagement secret, but he seriously doubted it. He certainly wouldn’t _want_ to. It would be his instinct to let everyone in the fucking city know that she was his, that she’d agreed to be his wife. But he wouldn’t be able to. It’d have to be a secret.

There would be no keeping the secret _at all_ anymore if they both showed up to work wearing wedding bands and Rose was ordering business cards, changing her name to Docherty. The jig would officially be up at that point. The knowledge that he couldn’t marry her while they worked together was frustrating. He’d figure out a way around it, he always did, but it would take some doing. No easy, acceptable answer presented itself. Until it did, they’d just have to wait. 

But if she had something shiny, something pretty, it could be a sign of his commitment to her. It wouldn’t only be tangible to her, it would be visible to everyone else - even if virtually _no one_ would know that he was the one staking a claim. Everyone would see...including Adam _fucking_ Mitchell. 

That little prick was still under Ian’s skin, even if he hadn’t bothered Rose in a few days. It was like the little fucker _knew_ somehow...he only ever came around whenever Ian was out of the office and wasn’t there to stop him. The bastard was starting to scare him. He believed the little fucker saw Rose as his and would keep trying to get her attention. Ian had had enough. He was worried about Rose, worried about what she was letting happen, worried about how it was affecting her, worried about what _might_ happen if the little fucker didn’t take a hint... Worried that the little fucker might actually win her over after a while if he kept at it. 

_No._ Rose was _his_. She’d promised _him_ her forever. If she wanted Adam, she could have said yes to him when he asked her at fucking Christmas, then kept the date. But she hadn’t. She’d broken the date and ended up with Ian, instead. Not for the first time, he thanked the heavens for her old, worn-out, piece of shit car.

The little fucker was nothing more than a fly. A loud, obnoxious, sexually harassing fly, and Ian was going to swat him the fuck down very soon, damn the torpedoes. Rose might not like it, but he was going to defend her: both to protect her and protect himself from losing her. What one will not defend, somebody else will end up taking. Ian wasn’t about to let that happen to his Rose. Over his dead fucking body.

The shower door opened behind him, interrupting his thoughts and making him jump. He turned to see Rose stepping in and closing the door behind her. Ian panicked for a heartbeat - he’d _never_ allowed _anyone_ into his shower. Then he remembered that this was _Rose_ , and the rules didn’t apply to her. Besides, there was no way he was going to send her away, not when the woman of his dreams was standing there, nude and bathed in the golden light of his bathroom, biting her lip and looking him up and down. His cock twitched under her scrutiny.

“What are you doing here?” he choked out.

She gave him a sultry smile and stepped towards him, putting her hands on his chest, rubbing them in wide circles. “I couldn’t help myself. I knew you were all naked in here and...I just had to come touch.” She slid her hands down his body, dragging her short nails lightly down his stomach towards his cock. 

Rose was here, in his shower, with him. She was naked and touching him. He might not understand her interest in him, but he’d do his dead level best to keep her fucking interested. Losing her was not an option. 

He growled a little, pushing her backwards until her back slammed against the tile wall. There was half a second of worry that he’d been too rough with her before she gave him an absolutely _filthy_ grin - that look did him in every time - and wrapped her hand around his cock. 

“No, ma’am,” he said, catching her wrist and pulling it away. He caught her other wrist, too, pinning them over her head against the wall. Her breasts were thrust out, her nipples rubbing against his chest, but he didn’t pay any attention. He’d get to them later; he had other ideas at the moment. 

“You invade my shower, you play by my rules.”

Her eyebrows shot to her hairline. “And just how do you play?”

“I play for you.” Ian shuffled around until both wrists were in his left hand above her head, then brought his free hand down to rub and stroke her at the junction of her thighs. Rose keened and arched her back; he buried his face in the crook of her neck, nosing her hair out of the way and kissing the soft skin he found. 

“Ian,” she whimpered when his fingers slid inside her a second later. 

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair, almost a prayer. “I love you.”

~*~O~*~

_24 February, 2017_

Ian sighed, pulling his glasses off and tossing them down onto his desk. This fucking case was a train wreck, and he was afraid of what it might take to save it. He’d save it, of course, but it was going to take a fair amount of work. He started to rack his brain, thinking of the most capable and talented people in the firm to help bail him -

He heard a knock in the doorway and looked up to find Danny standing there. 

“Yeah, PE?”

“Clara said to tell you that Adam is at it again, and for you to come quick -”

Ian was on his feet and rounding the desk before PE finished speaking, and thankfully the younger man moved out of his way. He clenched and unclenched his hands on the way to Rose’s desk trying to get control of himself, but his wrath wasn’t helped when he heard Adam’s voice. 

“Just one date. I promise I’ll show you such a good time that you’ll be dying to go out with me again.”

“I said _no_ , Adam.”

“Yeah, fuck off, Adam,” Amy chimed in. 

Ian turned into Rose’s row of cubes just in time to spy the little fucker ignoring Amy, propped on the corner of Rose’s desk and reaching out to touch her face with the back of a crooked finger. Rose was leaning backwards, away from him.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he wheedled, and Ian’s blood boiled at the sound of _his_ pet name for Rose on another man’s lips. He barely contained his rage, balling his fists at his sides so tightly they hurt. 

Everyone was focused on the situation, so nobody saw him approach. They all jumped when he spoke.

“Problem?”

Ian darted his eyes between Amy and Clara, then they landed on Rose. Her eyes were wide and they were communicating to him clearly. _Be careful_. He gave an infinitesimal nod of acknowledgement. 

No one spoke, and Ian looked back to Adam. “Is there a fucking problem, Mr. Mitchell?”

“No sir, Mr. Docherty. Just passing the time.”

“Is that so?” He glanced over at Rose, who was scowling at Adam now.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then why did I hear you asking Ms. Tyler out on a date?”

“Well, Mr. Docherty, I -”

“And I distinctly heard her tell you no, yet you persisted.”

The younger man snorted a laugh. “She’s playing hard to get, sir. You know how it is.”

“I know that when a woman says fucking _no_ , it means _no_ , but go on.” Ian crossed his arms. “Tell me about how she wanted to be harassed.” 

“I haven’t been harassing her, sir.”

“I heard her tell you no. I heard it very clearly. Yet you tried to put your fucking _hands_ on her! What the _fuck_ made you think that was acceptable?”

The little fucker looked distinctly uncomfortable, then raised his chin in something like defiance. “She’s been claiming to have a boyfriend when I know she doesn’t.”

Ian raised an eyebrow and he could _feel_ the three women’s eyes on him, wondering how he’d take this. He smiled: cold and dangerous. 

“You don’t believe her.” A statement, not a question.

Adam was either ignoring all the warning signs or too stupid to see them. “No, sir. She only started claiming to have one after I asked her out several times.”

“And you, with all your fucking brilliance, didn’t take that as a hint?”

“Well, sir, I -”

“You’re a fucking pudding brain, is what you are! When a woman tells you no, that means no! A flaming bag of horse shit would know better!”

“Sir, I -”

“Putting aside whether or not she _actually_ has a boyfriend - and fucking look at her! Women like that don’t sleep alone, you ignorant little prick! But putting that aside, even if she _didn’t_ and was lying to you, that should have been a clear fucking indicator that she didn't want to date you. Even you should have been able to fucking suss that out, despite being dim as a goddamn black hole!”

“I didn’t -”

“How long has this been going on?” He looked to Rose, but Amy and Clara answered. 

“Several months.”

“Since this past summer.”

Ian was gobsmacked. This had been going on for more than half a year? His eyes pinged back and forth between the two women, then he pinned Rose with a glare. “And you _never_ thought to say anything?” he demanded of her. 

“I didn’t think -”

“Clearly you didn’t,” he snarked. “If you had, this would have been handled months ago.” Rose’s eyes flashed at him, but he’d deal with that later. Not right here, not right now.

Ian turned his attention back to Adam. “Failing to report your behavior notwithstanding,” a glance in her direction told him she was shooting daggers at him, “Ms. Tyler seems to be a sensible girl. I daresay any sensible girl would stay well the fuck away from _your_ sorry arse.”

“Mr. Docherty -”

Ian silenced him with a sharp wave of his hand. “There’s no fucking defense here. She’s made it abundantly clear, over and over, that she wouldn’t date you if you had a ten-inch, solid gold dick.” 

Adam’s mouth fell into a perfect ‘o’, then he started opening and closing it soundlessly, like a fish. Ian assumed he wanted to defend himself, and he cut the little fucker off. “Spare me. I’ve stood beside you in the restroom and can verify that you’ve got _nothing_ anywhere in the fucking _vicinity_ of that measurement or quality.”

The little fucker turned bright red, and Ian heard Amy and Clara both try to stifle a snort. Rose was still glaring at him. He ignored her for the moment. 

“Mr. Mitchell, you have been told multiple times since last summer,” another hard look at Rose, “to leave Ms. Tyler alone. You haven’t fucking heeded those warnings. Perhaps you’ll use whatever fucking brain cells you have left that aren’t dedicated to dipping your nub of a wick for this warning.”

He took a step closer to Adam, his hands clenched at his sides, willing away the impulse to throttle the little fucker. “If I ever - _ever_ \- hear of you pestering Ms. Tyler for a date again - or any _other_ young woman in this firm - I will cut off your bollocks with fucking fingernail clippers and use them as very, very tiny ping pong balls. And after that, I will have you clear out your fucking desk. Is that understood?”

Adam was no longer red in the face, he was quite pale. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now get back to work.”

He stood there and watched the little fucker scamper away until he was out of sight, then turned and pointed at Rose. “You. My office. Now.”

Rose got to her feet at once, her shoulders back, her chin high, her eyes flashing and defiant. Ian usually loved seeing the fire in her, but not just now. He marched back to his office, ignoring Amy calling out to Rose and Clara calling out to him, trying to stop them. He didn't check to see if Rose was still behind him, he knew instinctively that she was; he could feel her eyes boring into his back. Once at his office, he stood aside for her to enter before him, then closed the door behind them.

She started before he could. “Just who the hell do you think you are?!”

“Keep it down, Rose,” he warned. “If we’re going to row over this - and you’d better fucking believe we’re about to row over this - we have to keep it to a dull roar lest we attract suspicion.”

Rose crossed her arm and cocked her hip. “Fine.” She spoke at a normal volume, but her voice was like fire and ice in one. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m your boss and I’m your bloke. And I’m perfectly within my rights to be bloody fucking _furious_ with you under _both_ of those descriptions! Since summer, Rose? Since fucking _summer_!?”

“You knew!” she insisted. “I told you on our very first date that he’d been after me!”

“You said ‘a while’. Not ‘six goddamn months’!”

“Why should you care? We weren’t dating then.”

“Why should I - _Rose!_ Are you hearing yourself? What the _hell_ do you mean ‘why should I care’? I care because I love you!”

“You didn’t then,” she pointed out.

“ _So much you fucking know_!” He ground his teeth in absolute frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment, then cut her off when she began to speak. “And even if I _hadn’t_ , you were being sexually harassed at work for fucking _months_ and never did anything about it. You could have told me or Alistair or Sarah Jane -”

“And he would have been sacked! Sacked, Ian!” He shushed her and she lowered her voice. “Think what that would do to his career, to be sacked because of sexual harassment!”

“I don’t give a tapdancing _fuck_ what it would do to his goddamn career!” He realized that now _he_ was too loud, barely able to contain himself, and took a breath before he went on in a voice that was quieter but no less angry. “He’s not my problem. _You_ are.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, I’m a problem now, am I?”

“ _Fuck_ , Rose,” He clenched his hands and counted to three. It was all he could manage: counting to ten was out of the question. Once he had a modicum of control, he continued. “You know very well that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s what you said, though, isn’t it? You said that I was a problem.”

“Concern. I meant that he is not my _concern_. You are.”

“There’s no reason to be concerned for me.”

“Rose,” he started, his voice raised. He lowered it at once, glancing at the door. “You endured _months_ of sexual harassment that you didn’t have to to save that little fucker’s job!”

“At first it was to save his job, then it became about keeping…” she stumbled, “ _us_ quiet!”

“You still could have told Sarah Jane.”

“I figured he’d back off once he got it through his greasy head that I had a boyfriend.”

Ian put his hand to his forehead then dragged it down his face, praying for the strength to deal with this stubborn woman in front of him. “I begged you, Rose. I practically fucking _begged_ you to report him. And that was _before_ I knew how long he’d been at it!” He threw up his hands in utter exasperation. “ _Fuck_ , who knows? Maybe my attentions weren’t enough for you. Maybe you _enjoyed_ the attention from the little shitstain.”

Rose stilled. “What did you just say?”

Cloister bells started ringing in his head, warning him he’d gone too far, to pull back. He couldn’t. His fucking mouth betrayed him.

“I said ‘maybe you liked the attention’.”

She just stared at him for a few beats while remorse washed over him in ten-foot waves. _Oh, God, you dumb fuck. What the hell were you thinking? What have you done?_ He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.

“I can’t believe you would _dare_ say that to me.” Her eyes were swelling with tears, and there was a tremble in her voice. His heart plummeted into his stomach and he took a step forward. He had no clue what he was going to do, but he was sure he had to touch her, to make her understand. 

“Rose -”

“The absolute _nerve_ of you! How _dare_ you!”

He took another step forward, his arms reaching for her. “Sweetheart -”

Rose swatted his hands away and backed up towards his door, crossing her arms over herself. “ _Don’t_ touch me and don’t call me ‘sweetheart’.”

Ian took another step towards her, despite the admonishment. “Rose, please. Talk to me.”

She got to the door and turned the knob. “Go to hell, Ian.” Then she threw the door open and marched out.


	20. Chapter 20

Ian was seething. He hadn’t gone after Rose, despite his every instinct screaming for him to be with her, because he knew he was still too angry to speak with her rationally. He’d just proven _that_ effectively with his parting shot. 

And it had been a _cheap_ shot. He knew, deep down, that she hadn’t wanted Adam sniffing around. But his insecurity had gotten the better of him and, as a result, he’d hurt her. 

He punched the wall. He couldn’t seem to get this relationship shit right. Maybe he was never meant to be in one at all. 

No, fuck _that_. He didn’t give a shit whether he was meant to be in one or not. He _was_ in one, he wasn’t letting it go, and he -

His door opened and he looked up hopefully, thinking it may be Rose. It was Clara, though, the look on her face as disapproving and stern as a schoolmarm. He didn’t give a fuck. He was furious with her, too. 

“Ian -”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” he demanded as she closed the door. “Why am I just finding out today - _months_ after the fact - that one employee has been harassing another?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” she defended. “He’d stop by her desk every couple of weeks and ask her out. She’d say no, he’d toddle off. After the Christmas party, though, he started hinting that he’d given her the dishes. She agreed to go out with him, then broke the date when I told her the gift hadn’t been from Adam. Once she came back from Christmas and started saying she had a bloke, he started coming around more. I guess he assumed that he’d win her over.”

Ian was pale and shaking: with anger or fear, he wasn’t sure. Probably both. 

“So you’re saying that he’s been escalating.”

She held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I don’t think he’s dangerous, Ian.”

“Nobody ever does!” he roared, then swept his arm across his desk, sending papers flying in an impotent rage. 

Clara was not impressed nor cowed by the display. “Ian. Breathe. Deep breaths.”

He kicked the chair over in front of his desk first, but did as she commanded. Three deep breaths later, he was calm enough to go on. 

“That little fucker could have hurt her, Clara.”

“He didn’t. And he won’t.”

Ian was inclined to believe the same thing, but he was still livid and terrified. What if something _had_ happened? What if Rose had been hurt? It didn’t bear thinking about - he _couldn’t_ think about it. He’d go mad. He collapsed into his chair behind his desk and massaged his temples: a headache was imminent. 

“Ian,” Clara started, righting the chair then sitting. “Tell me you didn’t give her a bollocking.”

“No,” he shook his head. “We had a proper row. She gave as good as she got. Until…”

She waited a beat for him to go on. When he didn’t, she prompted him. “Until…?”

“Until I suggested that maybe she liked the little fucker’s attentions, and that was why she never said anything.”

Clara gaped at him, horrified. “You didn’t.”

“Well what the fuck else was I supposed to think?” he defended himself. “She let this go on for _months_ , Clara. Since the fucking _summer!_ ”

“She loves _you_ , you daft git! Why do you think she kept turning him down?” Ian started to smart off to her, but she was too quick. “Because she wants _you_!”

He slid one hand down his face in defeat. “I know.”

“You have to apologize.”

“I am. I’m going to,” he nodded, morose. “But we’re not done arguing. I’m still fucking furious with her.”

“She’s going to shut you out completely if you go in there and act like a prick before you even apologize for what you said. You have to say you’re sorry first.”

“No. This isn’t a goddamn temper tantrum. I _deserve_ to be fucking furious.”

Clara nodded. “Yes, you do. But you also crossed a line. You need to apologize for that before you discuss anything else. If you don’t, you might do irreparable damage.”

He hesitated, the words ‘irreparable damage’ rattling around in his head. Clara was, in effect, telling him that his temper and hard-headedness could ruin everything if he didn’t get it under control. He had to calm down. He wasn’t willing to blow everything with Rose. 

Ian sighed. As furious as he was, he _was_ sorry. Seemed he was apologizing an awful lot since he’d taken up with Rose. Maybe one day he’d figure out what the fuck he was doing. 

“Alright. Can you get her in here discreetly?”

She shook her head. “She left for the day. Claimed she had a meeting. Did she?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“She probably just wanted to get away from me.”

“Probably,” she agreed. 

Ian scrubbed his face with his hands. “What time is it?”

“Four.”

An hour and he could leave. One hour, and he could go to Rose. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Need any help cleaning up in here?”

“No. Go away, Clara.”

She left, closing the door behind herself, and Ian leaned forward, banging his head on the desk.

~*~O~*~

Ian knocked on Rose’s door, bracing himself. He was determined to get in there, but thought he should at least give her the opportunity to choose whether to let him in or not before he barged in on his own. It would also give him a chance to gauge her mood.

He didn’t have to wait long before her voice came from the other side of the heavy door. “Go away, Ian.”

“Rose, we have to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Sweetheart -”

“Don’t call me sweetheart. I said I don’t want to talk to you.”

Ian muttered to himself as he dug his keys out of his pocket, then pushed it into the keyhole. “Well that’s just tough shit because I -”

The key turned and he turned the handle with it, pushing the door open to go in, and it stopped abruptly. Rose had put the chain on.

“Goddammit, Rose!”

“I told you to go away,” she said, sounding almost smug.

“Well, I’m not. I’m going to sit right here in this corridor. All night if I have to. As long as it takes until you let me in.”

“I’ll call the cops.”

“And do you know what the cops will say? They’ll see that we’re having a domestic and tell us to _talk it out._ Now open the door, sweetheart.”

“Go to hell.”

“Pretty fucking sure I’m already there right now.”

Rose didn’t say anything and he couldn’t see her through the crack in the door. After a few moments, he decided to stage his own little sit-in. Putting his back to the door, he slid downwards until he was sitting. Rose didn’t move or say anything from the other side, so he did his best to settle in for the long haul: making himself comfortable, laying his forearms over his knees and leaning his head back against the door. He’d not been bluffing: he wasn’t leaving until she let him in, and he began to contemplate the logistics of sleeping there all night. 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

The door pushed him forwards a few inches as it closed, and he leapt to his feet. The chain rattled then it flew open in front of him, but Rose wasn’t standing there. She’d walked away, steadfastly ignoring him. 

Ian didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. Instead he ducked inside the door and closed it behind him, locking it. Once inside, he took off his coat and laid it across the back of his usual chair, stalling for time. All of the words he’d practiced at work and on the way over were failing him, and he tried to think of what to say. It was curious how he could talk rings around other barristers in and out of the courtroom, but this woman left him flummoxed. 

“You could start with ‘I’m sorry’,” she snarked. 

He spared a thought to wonder if he’d said something out loud, then realized that he hadn’t. Rose just knew him that well.

There were two choices here. He could be contrite, which he was, or angry, which he also was. Both would eventually work their way out during the conversation; they had to, or nothing would get resolved. But Clara had cautioned him strongly against being an arse right out of the gate, so he decided to start with contrition. 

“I am. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean it.”

“Then why did you say it?”

“I’m an old man, Rose, a jealous old man, and I wonder every fucking minute of every day what the fuck you’re doing with me. What am I supposed to think when you let that little fucker chat you up and pursue you for the better part of a year?”

“I didn’t want _him_ ,” she spat, her eyes filling with tears again. “I _don’t_ want him. I want you, you wanker.”

“Well, you’ve got me,” he said, stepping forward to take her into his arms. She cried against his chest and he stroked her back, whispering nothings and apologies into her hair, waiting until she was through before he finished saying what needed to be said. 

Once she had calmed, she stepped back from him and wiped her eyes. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saying you’re sorry about everything.”

“Oh, no,” he started, raising his hands. “No, no, no. I didn’t say I was sorry about _everything_.” She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and his eyes flashed at her. “I’m bloody fucking _livid_ with you, Rose Tyler, and I have every right in the world to be so.”

“What the hell did I do?”

“It’s not what you did, it’s what you _didn’t_ do! You let this go for _months_ , and you didn’t put a stop to it!”

“I didn’t -”

“I’d have done something about it the very first day we went back to work after Christmas, had I known. Which is what I wanted to do, anyway, but I’d promised you I wouldn’t. I’d have sacked him then, no matter our relationship!”

“Ian, I just -”

He held up a hand. “No. The fact that you let this go for _months_ is unbelievable, Rose. It’s inexcusable. He could have hurt you!”

Rose scoffed and wiped a tear away. “That little wanker wouldn’t harm a hair on anyone’s head.”

“You know that saying ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’? It applies to blokes, too. I’ve seen it a million times, sweetheart. Some guy is interested in a girl, but she turns him down. He gets it in his head that she ‘owes’ him. She still won’t give in to him and he loses control and hurts her.”

“Adam wouldn’t -”

“Every one of the living victims I have ever talked to said that they never thought the bloke was dangerous.” Unable to stand it a second longer, he stepped forward and pulled her back into his arms. “Rose, sweetheart, he was escalating. He was asking more often, trying to touch you, refusing to believe I existed. I don’t think he’s dangerous, just an arsehole. But what if he _was_? You could have been killed. You’ve been endangering yourself for no reason.”

She started crying again, and he just held her, swaying her back and forth as she sobbed. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I think he’ll slink back to whatever shithole he crawled out of now. You’re safe. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

“I’m sorry,” she cried, not raising her head from his chest. “I’m so sorry, Ian. I should have said -”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he stopped her. “I’m sorry, too, precious girl. I never should have talked to you that way. I was just so fucking scared.”

Rose shook her head. “I deserved it. I should’ve -”

He shushed her and raised her chin to look at him. Her eyes and nose were red and her cheeks were wet from the tears still leaking, but even so, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his entire life.

“I love you, Rose,” he told her in a quiet but fervent tone, hoping she’d grasp the depth of what he was trying to say. “I _love_ you. And I know you didn’t want me to step in. I know you wanted to just let him go away on his own, but I couldn’t. I’ll always protect you, sweetheart. There’s no telling what would happen to me if something happened to you.”

Fresh tears dripped from the corners of her eyes and she tried to lower her head. He crooked his finger and used it to pull her face back up to his. 

“Promise me, Rose. If he comes back around again, you’ll call me immediately. If I’m not there, you’ll call me while you’re on the way to my office. Tell Danny not to let anyone but me or Clara inside, then lock the door and wait for me or Clara. Swear to me.”

“We’ll be discovered.”

“I don't give a fuck. Promise me.”

“Ian -”

“Literally could not give less of a fuck, sweetheart. I don’t care. If you’re safe, I don’t care.” She tried to speak, but he wasn’t having it. “Swear to me, Rose. I’m not going to let this go. I _have_ to know that you’re safe, for my own sanity.”

“I promise,” she said, looking up at him with watery eyes. “I swear, Ian.”

He gathered her close again. “I keep fucking up, Rose. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing with you, and I keep fucking up.”

“You’re amazing,” she sniffled against him. 

“If I was amazing, I wouldn’t make you cry.”

She shook her head. “Every bloke makes his girlfriend cry. No relationship is perfect all the time.”

“I hate upsetting you.”

“I hate upsetting you, too. I’m sorry, Ian. I really am. I should’ve -”

He dipped his head to kiss her, the first since that morning when they’d said goodbye. It was soft, chaste, and sweet...the perfect kiss of peace.

“It’s forgiven, sweetheart. Can you forgive me?” 

Rose nodded and he caught her lips in another kiss. She slid her arms around his waist under his jacket, and he relaxed a little, realizing only then just how tense he had been. 

Deciding that he wanted to relax properly, he took both her hands and pulled her over to the couch, plopping down in his customary place, putting his left arm up on the back, leaving the invitation clear. Rose didn’t take him up on it, though; instead, she straddled his legs, kneeling over his lap, settling in. 

Unable to help himself, Ian put his hands on her waist, rubbing his thumbs in a circle even as his mind protested what he thought was about to happen. 

“Sweetheart, not right now...I don’t want to-”

“Shh,” she shushed him. “This isn’t about sex. Isn't that what you always say? I just want to be close to you, as close as possible.”

He wasn’t about to object to that. Rose put her arms around his shoulders and he pulled her as close as he could get her, her torso flush against his. She laid her head on its side so that her face was pressed against his neck, and he rested his forehead against her jumper-clad shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice as soft and tender as her words. 

“I’m sorry, too,” he mumbled against her shoulder. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, Ian Docherty.”

He closed his eyes against the sound of his name on her lips. He didn’t deserve her love, her forgiveness, or the fact that she was snuggled into his arms, but he’d be damned if he was going to look that gift horse in the mouth. 

He gave a rueful little chuckle. “I feel like I say that too much and not enough at the same time.”

“Say what?”

“That I love you.”

Her lips curled up into a smile on his neck and he felt gooseflesh break out all over. “You say it just right. I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

“Good,” he told her, raising his head to look at her. She raised her head as well and he lifted his face. She took the hint, bending down to kiss him, and he thought his heart may explode with love. 

The moment was interrupted when Rose’s stomach growled. “You sound hungry.”

“I am, a bit. Haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

Ian peered over her shoulder to the clock on the cable box. “It’s half six. Do you want to walk down to the chippie?”

She made to climb off him. “Sure. I’ll go.” 

His arms tightened around her. “I’m not sending you out to pick up food like you’re waiting on me. I meant the two of us go together.”

Rose’s tongue came out to the corner of her mouth. “Like a date?”

“Like our _first_ date,” he corrected her with a smile. “Same chippie and everything.”

“Oh, Mr. Docherty,” she flirted, “I’m not sure what to do with that kind of offer.”

“Go put on your shoes while I throw on some jeans, and we’ll go.”

Her eyes darkened a bit. “You’re serious.”

“We never go anywhere, sweetheart. We stay in all the time. And that’s lovely, I love being here with you or at my flat, but I’m dying to take you out. Show you off.”

“What if we’re seen?”

“We won’t be,” he assured her. “We’re just going to the chippie to have dinner then walk back.”

“Ian -” She looked uncertain, but something in his face made hers relax a bit. “Oh, alright. Chips with my bloke it is.”

He hugged her impetuously, then stretched his torso to kiss her. “It’ll be brilliant.” He kissed her again, just because he could, just because he needed to. “Go get your shoes. I’m going to take off my suit.”

She clambered off his lap and held her hand out to him. He took it - not needing the help, just wanting to touch her - and she grinned at him when he got to his feet. “Need any help taking off that suit?”

One corner of his mouth quirked up and he bent to kiss her. “Behave, minx,” he muttered against her lips, and she giggled. 

Five minutes later, with Rose in her trainers and Ian in his jeans, they left her flat hand-in-hand to walk the five-and-a-half blocks to the chippie. Rose’s right hand rested in Ian’s left, fingers laced together, and her arm crossed her body to hold onto his elbow. At a crosswalk, they turned to each other, Rose lifted her face to his, and he dipped down to plant a sweet kiss on her soft and expectant lips. When the light changed, he dropped one more kiss to her forehead, and the two stepped out into the zebra crossing, laughing merrily, Rose laying her head on his shoulder, both of them just happy to be together and in love. 

Neither of them noticed the man on the opposite block with his phone raised and pointed at them, nor the malevolent, satisfied smile he wore.


	21. Chapter 21

2 March, 2017

Rose checked her phone as she pushed the rotating door to the office building and walked through. She was actually running a few minutes early - something that hadn’t happened in weeks. Ian had had to work late the night before, so Rose just went home after her yoga class. It had been the first night they’d spent apart in nearly three weeks. She’d missed him horribly when she woke up this morning without him curled up against her back, but she had to admit it was easier to get ready for work in the morning without his octopus hands. Not that she minded him groping her, of course. In fact, she rather liked it when he - 

A hand closed gently around her bicep and she instinctively gasped, moving to jerk it away. Before she could, however, a beloved, familiar brogue whispered in her ear, “Come with me.” With adrenaline still coursing through her veins, she followed him. 

Ian’s eyes darted all over the lobby of the building, looking back and forth as he pulled her discreetly towards the stairs across from the lifts. Once there, he opened the door to the stairwell and pushed her inside, glancing around one more time before he followed. 

“Ian, what on ear-”

She was cut off when he pushed her back against the wall and covered her mouth with his. Rose didn’t complain, she wasn’t about to complain, she simply dropped her briefcase then draped her arms over his shoulders, pressing her body against his a little. Ian’s hands roamed her, skimming lightly over her back and sides, making little detours to her bum and her breasts, but behaving themselves for the most part. When it seemed he’d touched his fill, he wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her body to his. 

They kissed unhurriedly for a little longer, then he pulled away. She chased him, wanting more of his taste, and he smiled even as he surrendered for a moment. 

“Good morning,” he rumbled once she let him go.

“Good morning to you. What’s all this about?”

“I missed you.”

Rose grinned, lightly tracing her fingers up and down the back of his head. “It’s only been one day, Ian.”

“Too fucking long. I needed to hold you for a minute.” 

She lay her head on his shoulder, nuzzling into his collar, taking in the warm, comfortable scent of his aftershave. She’d missed that scent in her bathroom this morning. It occurred to her, then, that the smell on his shirt wasn’t as strong as it should have been first thing in the morning, and she felt a prickle of concern.

Ian pressed a couple of hard, fervent kisses against her temple, then lower on the side of her neck. “I didn’t sleep for shit last night.”

She pulled back to look at him. “You didn’t sleep at _all_ last night, did you? You’re wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday.”

“Rose -”

“You worked all night, didn’t you?”

“I had to! I didn’t have a fucking choice.”

He wasn’t angry, but he was defensive, and Rose immediately felt guilty for making him feel cornered like that. She wrapped her arms around him again and snuggled back into his neck.

“I’m not angry, Ian, just worried. I hate to think of you not taking care of yourself.”

“I’m fine, sweetheart.”

She decided to change the subject. “I didn’t sleep well, either. I believe I’ve gotten used to you hogging the blankets, Mr. Docherty.”

“Oi!” he protested, pulling back and her tongue came to the corner of her smile. “I don’t hog the fucking blankets. You do.”

“So you say,” she flirted. “I’m afraid I’ll need evidence.”

“You understand why I needed to see you, don’t you?” he changed the subject. “It’s been a full twenty-four hours for me. I’ve missed you the entire fucking time. There wasn’t any sleep to speed the hours away.”

Rose gave him a light kiss. “I needed to see you, too. I’m glad you pulled me in here.”

His eyes darted all over her face, tender and soft, and he pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Are you staying with me at mine tonight?”

“If you want me to.”

“I always want you there, sweetheart.” He bent down and laid a soft kiss on her lips. “I never want you to leave.”

_Wait. Did he mean -?_

The sound of a door opening a couple of floors up startled them, and Ian shuffled Rose over to the back wall, blocking her with his body. Footsteps echoed around in the stairwell. She heaved a sigh of relief when she heard a door open and close, and the footsteps died away. 

“This is playing with fire,” she warned him, and he nodded.

“I know. But I never would have made it through the day without this. I’ve become completely addicted to you.”

Rose grinned. She could say the exact same thing, but it thrilled her to hear _him_ say it.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. 

“Yeah, I panicked for a second there. I thought you were -” She froze and looked away.

“You thought I was Adam,” he guessed.

“Yeah. I’m just skittish now, you know? With everything you said...what if he’s not done with me?”

“He’s done with you,” he assured her. “I won’t let him hurt you, sweetheart. You’re safe. I swear.”

She soothed him with a kiss to the tip of the nose. “I know you won’t.”

“I just...I needed you for a minute.”

Concern etched her brow. “Is something wrong?”

Ian picked one of her hands off his shoulder and brought it to his lips, laying a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Not now.”

“What’s wrong?” she coaxed him, opening her hand and laying it on his cheek. 

“Nothing, sweetheart. Honestly. I just needed to be with you for a moment. That’s all.” She looked at him suspiciously, but he just gave her a tender smile. “I’ve gotten used to starting my days with you. Nothing felt right until I saw you.”

“Me, too,” she smiled. Then she sobered. “But we have to go.”

He sighed. “I know.” Holding her hand in place on his cheek, he turned his head and kissed her wrist. 

Rose stood on tiptoe to kiss him. He supported her with his hands on her waist, lying there lightly. “I love you,” she murmured against his lips. 

His answering smile was huge and left her insides feeling fizzy, like a teenager with a crush. 

“I love you, too.”

“How are we getting out of here?” she asked, thinking of the logistics. “First one then the other to the lift?”

Ian shook his head. “You go take the lift. I’ll take the stairs.”

“Ian,” she admonished. “We’re going to the forty-first floor!”

“So I’ll only climb a few flights before I get out and take the lift.” Rose looked disapproving, and he bent to kiss her lightly. “Go, before I molest you in this stairwell.”

She arched her back to bring her body in closer contact with his and walked her fingers up his arm. “That doesn’t sound so bad, actually.”

Ian growled and caught her mouth in a deeper, more passionate kiss. She held onto him tightly when he dipped her backwards, enjoying the game of chase their tongues were engaged in. To egg him on, she scratched her short nails along his scalp, then grinned a little when he made a rumbling sound of pleasure. 

Once he was done kissing her to within an inch of her life, he stood her back up and swatted her on the backside. “Go. Get out of here, or we’ll both be in hot fucking water.” 

Rose bent to pick up her briefcase and looked over her shoulder at him in what she hoped was a beguiling way. He shoved his fists in his pockets as he watched her and she was positively smug. “We’ll continue this at yours tonight?”

“You’d better fucking believe it, sweetheart.”

She blew him a kiss then put her hand on the door handle to open it. “I love you.”

A soft “I love you, too” followed her out into the lobby. She checked her phone again. She wasn’t early any longer: in fact, she was going to be about three minutes late. 

She couldn’t care less. 

The queue for the lift was longer than she expected, and Rose didn’t catch the first one. She and the remaining three stragglers waited until the chime signaled that the lift was ready, then they filed on. 

Rose took a position near the back of the lift, considering she was going almost to the top of the building and would be one of the last ones off the car. For the first time, she worried what her makeup must look like after a snogging session like that, so she whipped out her phone and turned on the front-facing camera, checking her image. She was just clearing up some smudged lippy when the lift bell dinged on the fourth floor. The people in front of her shuffled around and Rose slid back a little closer to the wall while a couple of people got off. 

“Ms. Tyler.”

She looked up from her phone with wide eyes to see Ian coming to stand beside her. One side of his mouth was quirked in a half smile and he raked his gaze over her - despite having just seen her two minutes before. 

“Mr. Docherty,” she answered, blushing, and he smirked. 

The lift started moving again, and the silence felt thick. She snuck glances at Ian every few seconds, frequently catching him looking at her. When that happened, they’d share a grin and Rose would flush, going back to staring at her phone without seeing it. 

The lift door opened, letting off two of the remaining three people besides herself and Ian. He stepped forwards long enough to press the button and that’s when she saw it - his hair was mussed. 

She managed to catch his attention and started trying to communicate to him that his hair made him look like he’d been thoroughly sexed recently, but his blank stare told her that he wasn’t getting it. She started mouthing the words ‘ _fix your hair_ ’ while miming smoothing her own hair, but he just looked confused. 

Rose fought the impulse to stamp her foot, but the impatient little motion she’d let herself have drew the attention of the lift’s other occupant. He looked at Rose questioningly and she gave him an innocent smile, as if nothing was wrong. The man turned then and looked at Ian, who shrugged and rolled his eyes as if to say, ‘ _beats me, mate_ ’. 

The man turned back around and Rose considered fixing it herself before they got to the 41st floor, but the bell dinged before she had a chance to do anything more than move in his direction. Their fellow occupant stepped aside to let them off and the lift door opened. 

Clara stood there. She took one look at the two of them coming off the lift, her eyes darting between them, then clicked her tongue at Ian. 

“Really?”

There was no time to protest before she shoved a large file in his hands and tugged him towards his office, reaching up to smooth his hair. 

Rose giggled, she couldn’t help it, and when Ian turned around with his hand on the back of his head, his lips pursed, his brow furrowed and his eyes laughing, she actually gigglesnorted.

~*~O~*~

5 March, 2017

Rose was driving him spare, and the little minx knew she was doing it. 

He’d wheedled her into dinner at his favorite restaurant. She’d hemmed and hawed, saying she’d like to stay in, but Ian was frankly sick of staying in. They stayed in all the time, very rarely venturing out, letting the fear of being caught dictate their lives. He’d had enough, and finally talked her around. It would be a safe space, he said, his favorite restaurant. Nothing to fear there. He’d been there a million times - it was the same place he’d taken her on Boxing Day. Besides, they’d gone out before with no issues. Why not tonight? She’d finally rolled her eyes and gotten up to go into his bedroom and change her clothes, kissing him before she left. 

When she’d come out, she was wearing the same jumper dress that she’d worn on Boxing Day with the same knee-high, high-heeled boots. He had the same stunned reaction he’d had that night, too. The memory of what they’d done the first time she wore the dress when they got back to her flat from dinner had his trousers growing uncomfortably tight. Rose hadn’t acknowledged his overt staring, instead she’d made a show of not looking at him while she threaded her silver hoops through her ears and adjusted her hair in the mirror, darting little glances at him in the reflection. After a few moments, Ian had decided that he simply _had_ to touch her and had slipped up behind her, running his hands up and down her sides. Rose had subtly ground herself against his cock then flounced away to get her coat, leaving him to grit his teeth while she called from the foyer that she was ready to go when he was. 

The crowd at the restaurant was light for a Sunday night, and he’d been able to get them his prefered seating: a corner booth in the back of the dining area where they could sit together and mostly go unnoticed. The skirt of her jumper dress was ridiculously short and he knew from months of experience now that her legs were smooth and soft. He laid his hand on her knee after they slid into their seats and they ordered. Gradually his hand worked its way up until it was under her skirt, his fingers drawing little patterns on the inside of her thigh. Nothing was said about it; there was merely a twinkle in their eyes and the occasional bite of the lip from Rose. 

They separated when the meal arrived, both of them focused on eating and chatting. The topics of conversation were light; they spent most of their time talking about where to visit on their next weekend getaway, Ian taking the opportunity where he could find it to give the mini-lectures she seemed to enjoy. 

As soon as he finished his last bite, his hand was back on her leg. She acknowledged him with nothing more than a smile directed at her plate and the uncrossing of her legs; silent permission. 

It was permission he gladly took. His fingertips were caressing the outside of her knickers and he was contemplating bringing her off right in the middle of the restaurant when the server came to ask them about dessert. Ian opened his mouth to order, but Rose leaned over. 

“I have something sweet for you,” she whispered seductively, “and you can eat all you want.” With that, she nipped his earlobe and Ian squeezed the flesh of her thigh reflexively in a bid to maintain control. Rose’s eyes were sparkling when she moved back away from him, and she giggled triumphantly when he asked for the check. 

While they waited, they finished their glasses of wine. “To getting out and doing things,” Ian said with a smile, his pinky still rubbing her slit through her increasingly wet knickers, his eye twinkling mischievously. 

“To getting out and doing things,” she echoed, pushing her hips forward a little so there was more friction from his finger. 

They clinked their glasses and took a sip, still looking in each others’ eyes. 

When the waiter brought the bill back, he happened to catch sight of Henry Van Staten, the junior partner that had called Rose 'eye candy'. Ian cursed foully under his breath as he signed the check and handed it back to the waiter, his eyes watching Van Staten intently. 

Rose swallowed her sip of wine and looked at him curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Van Staten is here,” he answered in a low voice. 

Her eyes widened a bit. “Henry Van Staten?” she whispered.

“The very same.”

It was her turn to swear under her breath, and his lip quirked up at the sound - in spite of the current situation. 

“If he sees us together…”

“Yeah. I know.”

“What do we do?”

At least a hundred scenarios had been running through his mind since he spotted his partner, none of them ideal. Finally, he settled on one. “Here,” he said, handing her his keys. “Go to the car. I’m waiting one minute, then I’m right behind you. Go.”

“What about you?” she asked, even as she grabbed her purse. 

“It doesn’t matter if he sees me, only that he doesn’t see us together.”

“But what if he -”

He leaned over and kissed her quickly. “I love you. Go. Now.”

Rose got to her feet and started towards the door, her walk fast but not fast enough to draw suspicion. He hoped that her outfit - the outfit that had tantalized him all night - wouldn’t draw Van Staten’s eye. Ian kept his eyes on Van Staten the whole time, making sure the other man didn’t spot her, but he saw no recognition there when Van Staten looked up. Ian blew out his cheeks, relieved. 

After the promised count of sixty he got to his own feet and started towards the exit, studiously avoiding looking at Van Staten. He’d almost made it, he was almost to the coat check when - 

“Docherty!”

_Fucking hell._

Ian turned with a smile in place - an entirely false and uncharacteristic smile - and his brain started whirring with ideas about how he could get out of this conversation. Van Staten stood and walked over to him, his hand extended, and Ian shook it. He realized after a moment that it was the same hand that had just been up Rose’s skirt, and pulled it back as quickly as possible, not wanting a fuckwit like Van Staten to be any closer to Rose than he had to be.

“Good to see you, Docherty! Out for dinner?”

“Just finished, actually,” he said. “Was picking up my coat.” 

“I’ve never eaten here before,” Van Staten said. “Is it good, or am I wasting my money?”

“It’s good,” Ian assured him, handing his ticket to the coat check girl and willing her to move like the wind. “Try the lobster ravioli.”

Inside his mind, he chanted to the coat check girl. _Come on come on come on come on_...

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about the Smith case,” Van Staten said, leaning against the wall. “Do you have a minute?”

“Actually, I don’t,” Ian replied, grateful to have been given an out. “I have ...an appointment to keep with someone.”

“At this time of night? Oh ho!” Van Staten crowed. “Got a lady friend, Docherty?”

_Not at this rate._

“No, but it is a personal matter.” 

_Go away go away go away go away_

Van Staten looked smug. “I’ll let you get to it then, this _personal matter_ ,” he said, putting the words ‘personal matter’ in air quotes. Ian wanted to punch him right in his smarmy jaw. He’d never liked the prick, had liked him even less once he called Rose ‘eye candy’. Now he just wished the fucker would go away. 

The coat check girl came back with his coat and - his heart nearly stopped - Rose’s as well. He prayed to a God he hadn’t communed with in years that Van Staten hadn’t seen it. 

He didn’t seem to have. “See you tomorrow, Docherty.” Van Staten turned to walk away and Ian sagged with relief, then the bastard turned back around. “Say, I forgot. You’re on the inside on the Riggs case, right?”

“There’s nothing I’m not on the fucking inside of,” Ian confirmed, checking his watch pointedly. _Except Rose, right now._

“Come see me sometime tomorrow. There’s been a development. And I still need to talk to you about Smith, too.”

“Great. Yes. Smith and Riggs. Perfect.” Without thinking, Ian threw on his coat. Ordinarily, he would have given quite a colorful bollocking to anyone but Sarah Jane or Alistair that had the testicular fortitude to tell him to come by their office, but for now he was too anxious to get away.

“Are you alright?” Van Staten asked with narrowed eyes.

_Would you please just go the fuck away?_

“I’m fine, but I have this appointment that I’m quite fucking late to.”

“Need to return a coat to some lady?”

Ian thought fast. “Yes. My sister. It’s my birthday, we had dinner together.”

“Ah,” Van Staten said with a twinkle in his eye. “Understood.” He put his hand out for Ian’s. “Say no more. Happy Birthday, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Ian said, shaking his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks.”

Before another word could be spoken, he turned and headed out the door towards the car park. Little clouds of exhaust came from the rear of his car, and he was glad to know that Rose had cranked it to keep warm. 

He opened the door and slid in. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he apologized before he even got the door closed behind him. 

“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “Did he see me?”

“I don’t think so,” Ian said as he backed out of the spot and pulled out of the car park onto the street. “He saw that I was carrying a woman’s coat, though.”

“What’d you say?”

“I told him it was my birthday and I’d just had dinner with my sister.”

“You don’t have a sister. And your birthday is in August.”

“ _He_ doesn’t know that.”

Rose laughed uncomfortably. “I guess that will work.”

Ian didn’t answer; his gut was churning. That had been close. Too close. Had he not noticed Van Staten when he had, they might have been properly caught. And if they were properly caught - 

“Hey.” Rose broke into his thoughts, putting her hand over his on the gearshift and giving it a squeeze. “It’s alright. We didn’t get caught.” 

“It was close though, Rose.”

“It was,” she agreed. “Unnervingly so. I think maybe we should stay in for a while.”

Ian didn’t say anything, although he acknowledged the truth of her words to himself. He’d thought that since they’d gotten away with it a couple of times, maybe they’d get away with it this time, too. He’d gotten cocky.

His thumb rubbed along her fingers. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’d meant for us to have a lovely evening together.”

Rose turned in her seat a little. “It was a lovely evening. It still is. We’re going home, I’m going to take off this dress, and -”

“You’ll do no such thing,” he interrupted her, doing his best to put the situation out of his mind and focus on Rose. “I’m going to pull that fucking dress off of you myself. Damn thing has kept you from me all night.”

She giggled and shifted in her seat so that her legs were uncrossed. He looked over appreciatively for just a second before he realized what she was offering and put his hand on her leg, sliding upwards with none of the hesitation or slowness he’d shown in the restaurant. 

When they pulled into his driveway, Rose was keening his name. He parked the car, brought her off, then took her inside and made love to her until she couldn’t move.

~*~O~*~

Rose was sleeping soundly, wrapped in his arms, nestled under the three blankets she insisted she was freezing without. The duvet moved a little with every one of her breaths, and one lock of her hair lay across her cheek. Ian just took in the sight of her, peaceful and comfortable in his arms, marveling at the amount of love he could feel for one human being. He felt sometimes that he was going to burst with love for this woman.

But time was running short. He could feel it in the wind: they were going to be discovered soon. It wouldn't end his world, and it wouldn’t end Rose’s either, but she’d have a much harder time - possibly near impossible - finding a decent job after being sacked for having an affair with a senior partner. 

_‘Affair.’_ Even in his mind, he sneered the word. This was nothing like an affair, a tawdry office romance behind their respective partners’ backs, nor was it primarily just sex. But no one would know that, other than the handful of people who had seen them together. 

The fact was, they were going to get caught one of these days. It was a question of when, not if. Ian didn’t feel compelled to express that out loud, though...he was fairly certain that Rose already knew it. She was brilliant, after all.

Unbidden, Clara’s words when she’d learned about his relationship with Rose drifted back to him. “ _Mark my words: Shit WILL hit the fan._ ”

Restlessness and anxiety forced him away from Rose and out of the bed. She rolled over, seeking him even in her sleep, but Ian didn’t surrender to the desire to hold her. He needed to ease his mind as best he could. So he pulled on a vest and pair of flannel pyjama trousers, then made his way down the stairs to his study.

Ordinarily, he’d play his guitar when his mind got turbulent like this. His Les Paul taunted him from the corner, as if it knew it was needed in the moment. But he couldn’t play it with Rose asleep - nevermind how his fingers itched. He made a mental note to order some decent headphones for times like these. He’d need them if and when she moved in. 

Instead of playing, he sat down behind his desk and powered his computer on. He slipped his glasses on and logged into his online banking, pulling up each account in several tabs. Then he got to work. 

For a little over an hour he switched funds around until he was satisfied. Then he turned off the computer, took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes and went back to bed. When he folded his love into his arms a minute later, he did so with as much surety as he could manage that they were prepared for what he knew was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I may, I'd like to turn your attention to an Ian/Rose that's one of the most brilliant things I've ever read. If you have a moment, please empty your bladder and then go read [Jump On My Saddle](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10407681) by the talented Etwas_Schlau. It's an absolute delight. It's not exactly NSFW - there's no smut or anything - but it is a bit racy. I wouldn't want my kids to read it, we'll say. Go read and leave some love!!
> 
> Etwas_Schlau - thank you, again, from the bottom of my heart. <3


	22. Chapter 22

_13 March, 2017_

Ian accepted the pint from the waitress with a nod of thanks, then sipped it carefully. The lager was good and went down smooth. He’d rarely found its equal in all the years since he’d been a regular here. The Fox and Crow had always had good lager, but their ale was shit. How anyone could fuck up ale was beyond him, but the Fox and Crow certainly managed to do so. 

Still, swill masquerading as ale notwithstanding, it was a comfortable place, full of memories for Ian. He had frequented it in the early days of his career, like most other barristers, and although he felt in many ways he had outgrown it, he looked back on it fondly and visited from time to time, for nostalgia’s sake. It had been a good place to learn the ropes and practice skills only just learned. Many a plea deal had been negotiated and agreed to over pints within these four walls, the details of which were to be hammered out later in much stuffier rooms. 

It was fun to stop in every few months or so and catch up on gossip, but he wasn’t as worried about being in the thick of it as he used to be. He’d gotten complacent as the senior partner of a successful firm. 

But if his hunch was right, it might not be a bad idea to get back in the loop.

He took another sip of his lager just as the door opened, flooding the dingy pub with light. Ian squinted against the glare until it died with the shutting of the door. Jack stood in the entrance, scanning the room, and Ian raised one hand into the air to signal him. The other man grinned as he made his way over. 

Getting to his feet, Ian offered a hand to Jack, who shook it. The waitress appeared as they were settling down into their seats, and Jack ordered an ale. 

“All these years,” Ian started pleasantly, “and I still don’t understand how you can fucking drink that bullpiss.”

“I’m American,” Jack answered with a grin. “We’re used to shitty beer across the pond.”

Ian snorted and took another sip of his lager while the waitress brought Jack his pint glass of bullpiss. 

“So what did you want to see me for? We just had drinks a couple of months or so ago. I doubt you want to catch up so soon.”

He shook his head. “No. I need to ask a favor.”

“Name it.”

“I need you to keep an ear to the ground.”

“About what?”

“About me.”

“You?” Ian nodded. “What for?”

He took another sip of his beer, feeling it start to relax him just a bit. “I’m getting antsy. Got a bad feeling that my personal life is about to be fodder for the fucking gossip mill.”

Jack leaned forward a bit. “You think you and your lady friend are about to be outed?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“What makes you think so? I thought you were being careful at work?”

“We are. We have been. I can’t quite explain it, I don’t have any real concrete reason to feel that way. I just know shit’s getting ready to go pear-shaped.”

“Does the pupil know you have this hunch?”

Ian fought down a flash of anger, reminding himself that Jack didn’t know Rose and he had only told his friend about her once, there was no reason to expect him to remember her name. 

“Her name is Rose, and I've mentioned it, but not in any great detail. I don’t want to worry her.”

“Sounds like something she _should_ be worried about,” Jack said reasonably. “Her world will come crashing down, too.”

“Shit, it’ll be worse for her,” Ian muttered, squirming a little in his chair. “She’s just barely started her career. If word gets out she was sleeping with a senior partner at the firm she worked at…” He stopped, not wanting to speak his thoughts into reality. Best keep those to himself. “I’m taking steps to try to ensure it’s not too bad on either of us.”

“What steps?”

“I spent some time about a week ago shuffling funds around, checking to see what I had. I’m fine, financially, for at least the next several years. Probably longer.”

“What about Rose?”

Ian raised his hand to flag down the waitress and order another round. “As long as I’m fine, she’s fine. She has nothing to worry about if she loses her income. I’ll take care of her.” His voice grew a little fierce. “She’s not going back into fucking poverty on my watch.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “Back into -”

“Rose was raised on a council estate,” he said simply. Jack looked shocked, but Ian didn’t acknowledge him. “She’s going to want to work. For years, she’s been working herself to death - just to get to this point. Frankly, I’m amazed and fucking humbled that she’s risking everything to be with me. But to quit now...she won’t stand for it, not if I know her at all.”

“She’s that headstrong?”

“Oh, yes,” Ian grinned proudly. “Extremely headstrong. But to be honest, I’m going to want to work, too. Fucking idleness doesn’t suit me. That’s why I’m speaking to you.”

“So I’m keeping my ear to the ground for...what? Rumors? Job openings?”

“Rumors, mostly,” Ian said, setting down his fresh pint. “If you hear some rumblings about me, let me know so I can fucking quash them, most likely at the source. But if you hear of some suitable positions, let me know that, too. Couldn’t fucking hurt.”

“You shouldn’t have any trouble getting a job. You’re Ian fucking Docherty!”

“How true will that be if word gets around that I was sleeping with a pupil? Nobody will fucking care that I’m in love with her and planning to marry her.”

Ian smirked into his lager when Jack choked on his drink.

“ _Marry_ her?!”

“You heard me.”

“I’m not sure I heard you _correctly_.”

“You did.”

“You’ve proposed to her?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. We still have to keep everything a fucking secret,” he complained, then sighed. “Plus, I suppose it might be a bit soon.”

“A bit,” Jack snorted. “It’s been what, two months?”

“Almost three,” Ian replied easily. “And if she gave the word, I’d marry her tomorrow.”

Jack was staring at him, incredulous. “You’re serious.”

“As a fucking heart attack.”

“You, legendary bachelor, the Doctor, the Oncoming Storm. You’d marry this girl tomorrow?”

“Why the hell should I wait? I’m forty-six years old, Jack. I’ve been around the block plenty of times - more than enough - and quite a few of those trips should never have fucking happened. I didn’t think I wanted this, domestics and all that shit, but I do, and only because it’s her. There’s a good fucking reason I never married anyone else. Forty-six years...I’ve waited long enough. I know what I want. I want her.”

“And you think she’ll say yes?”

Ian let his mind flash back to Valentine’s day, to Rose promising him her forever. The memory alone made him feel warm and content. 

“Yeah,” he said with a little smile. “Yeah, I do.”

Jack leaned back in his chair. “Well, I’ll be damned. Never thought I’d see the day.” He extended his hand and Ian took it. “Congratulations, Doc.”

“Thank you,” Ian smiled, overlooking being called ‘Doc’.

“When are you actually planning on doing this?”

“No fucking clue. Soon as I’m able.”

“I’ll be damned,” Jack marveled again.

Ian drained the last of his lager and called for the check. “You’ll keep your ear to the ground?” he asked, paying for Jack’s shitty ale, too.

“Yeah. Sure thing.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

~*~O~*~

_20 March, 2017_

“Clara!”

Ian yelled from behind his desk without looking up. When she didn’t answer right away: “ _Clara!_ ”

“I’m here, I’m here, hold yourself together,” she muttered, making her way into his office and coming to a stop. “Yeah, boss?”

“I need everything you’ve got on Maratha. Has to do with the Scindas case.” 

She just looked at him. “You realize I’m not your PA anymore, right?”

Ian pinched the bridge of his nose, dislodging his glasses, then put them back into place. “What the fuck do you want, Clara? For me to say fucking ‘please’?”

“That would be a good start,” she acknowledged. “As would using your intercom to get one of our attention.”

“Yes, yes. I’m thoroughly fucking chastened. Your wisdom is astounding.”

“Thank you.”

He ground his teeth. Typically, he tried to avoid making Clara suffer through the worst of his temper, but she was trying him today. He was already on edge. Rose had gone out with Amy the night before and then sent a text later saying it was late so she’d just gone home. He hadn’t laid eyes on her since yesterday afternoon when she left work for the day, and hadn’t laid hands on her since yesterday morning when she left his flat. As a result, his temper was shorter than usual. When you factored in the fact that this case was doing it’s goddamned best to drive him ‘round the fucking bend...

“Suggestion noted. Now would you please get me the fucking Maratha file? All of it.” 

“Ian -”

“Oh what now?!” he snapped. 

“Danny is your-”

“I don’t give a fuck! There might just be a _reason_ I’m asking you for this, did you ever think of that?”

Clara held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I’ll get it, I’ll get it. You just sit here and try to not have a coronary.”

He glared at her, huffing angrily, while she made her retreat. He was too frustrated with this case to bollock her properly. 

Ten minutes later she came into his office with a large box. Deciding he could be at least a _little_ helpful, even if he was determined to remain ungracious, he stood and cleared one corner of his desk hurriedly so she could drop her burden there. He didn’t take the time to thank her before he had the top off and was rifling through the contents. 

“Where are the sentencing guidelines?” he asked, still digging.

“Hmm?”

“The sentencing guidelines! I need the sentencing guidelines!”

Clara looked pale - he spared half a second to notice that and realize that it was unusual for her - then she recovered. 

“I’ll find them.”

“You’d goddamn well better!” he bellowed. He knew his frustration was misplaced, but as there was no other outlet, Clara would have to do. 

She let it roll off her back, just as she always did, and left his office. He went through the large file again, looking for the document, but again came up short. He bellowed for her after a few minutes of fruitless search, and it took a second before she came running in this time. 

“Yeah?”

“Where are the fucking sentencing guidelines?”

“Ian, I -”

“I need those goddamn guidelines!”

“Calm down!” she snapped. “They’re here someplace. Just…” she hesitated. “They’re just not where I put them.”

He swore viciously and threw the papers in his hands down onto his desk. “Where are they, then?”

“We’re finding them.”

“Where the fuck are they?”

“Ian -”

“PE fucking lost them, didn’t he? That little…" He broke off, clenching his jaw, trying not to lose it. He failed. "His inept, incompetent arse has lost the motherfucking guidelines I need!”

“No, Ian, that’s not -”

Ian grabbed his bat, hoping it would calm and center him just a little - not thinking about the image it would present - then stormed around his desk and out of his office. 

“PE,” he said with a predatory smile, leaning on the bat like a cane. “Would you please get me the sentencing guidelines in the Maratha case?”

Danny’s eyes were wide, and he exchanged a glance with Clara. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t have -”

“Of course you don’t fucking have them, if you fucking had them they’d already be in my hand. I’m asking you to fucking _get them_.”

PE didn’t move, and his mouth hung open, speechless. 

Ian made an impatient ‘go on’ gesture. “C’mon, PE, I haven’t got all fucking day. Where are my goddamn sentencing guidelines?”

“We don’t know, sir,” PE burst out - rather bravely, Ian would have thought if he hadn’t been in such a black rage, considering the young man was facing down a mad Scotsman with a cricket bat.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. “It’s your fucking _job_ to know. I pay you fucking _money_ for you to _know these things_.”

“We don’t know,” he repeated, and Ian felt his temples begin to throb. “It’s not where it’s supposed to be.”

Ian bent over and put the hand not holding a bat on PE’s desk. “Do you know what happened to the last person unfortunate enough to have your job?” Danny shook his head and Ian straightened, his control slipping. He clutched the bat tighter, grasping. “I sacked her because she lost a file and lied about it!” His voice raised with every syllable until he was shouting near the top of his lungs. “Incompetence is one thing, but don’t fucking _lie_ to me about it! Of all the stupid shit - You know what? Just find the goddamn sentencing guidelines for the Maratha case. Find the file then get the fuck out of this office. I can take a lot of shit -”

“He’s not lying.”

Ian closed his eyes for a split second before he looked up. When he did he found Rose standing there, her coat lying over her arm, obviously coming back from lunch. She was facing him with her shoulders straight, her chin high, and something in her eyes he couldn’t quite define. It looked like defiance and resignation, mixed with a fair amount of fear. 

He felt nauseous at the sight of her standing before him, afraid. Then her eyes darted to the bat on his shoulder, and he wanted to crawl in a hole.

“What did you say, Ms. Tyler?” he asked, lowering the bat and straining to maintain - something. He didn’t fucking know what. 

“Danny isn’t lying. Sir,” she added hastily. “I have the sentencing guidelines. I don’t know your filing system so I needed Clara or Danny to help me put them back. They’ve both been busy, and so have I, so it hasn’t gotten done yet.”

The fight had gone completely out of him now, and his mind was screaming for him just to rush forward and take her into his arms. Everything would be alright if he could just touch her. His mind would settle and it would all be fine if he could just _hold her_. But he couldn’t and he knew that, even though his hands twitched and a plea for her to come to him, to make him better rose to his lips. 

Before he could say anything stupid Rose stepped to her desk, laid her coat across the chair, retrieved the file, then marched over to him with the sentencing guidelines in her outstretched hand. He reached out to take it, but didn’t miss the slight tremor in her hand. She wouldn’t meet his eye, and hastily took a step back once the file had been delivered. 

“I’m sorry for the mix up, Mr. Docherty. It’s my fault. Please don't punish Danny for my mistake.”

She stared at her toes, clenching and releasing her hands, and Ian ached to see her so anxious in front of him. That should never happen: his precious girl should never fear him for any reason. He was the one person who would never knowingly hurt her, yet here she stood before him, waiting for him to shout and say cruel things with a fucking bat in his hands. 

He’d rather french kiss a fucking rattlesnake than hurt her in any way. But they were at work and he _had_ to react somehow. So he cleared his throat. 

“Yes. Thank you, Ms. Tyler. You can go back to work now.”

She looked up at him with wide, surprised eyes. “But -”

“I have the guidelines now. No harm, no foul. Just return anything else you may borrow as soon as you’re done with it, alright? Don’t wait for Clara or PE to be available.”

She stared at him, her jaw a little slack, and he glanced around to see that most of the multiple people who were watching this non-bollocking were wearing the same face. He felt irritation bubbling again. 

“What’re you all fucking staring at? Get back to work!”

Everyone complied except Rose, who was giving him a curious look. She almost looked angry. He couldn’t react, couldn’t drag her away, so he just gave her a nod and went back to his office, ignoring Danny and Clara as he went. 

He’d barely sat down when his phone went off. 

Marion - _wth was that about? why did you let me go?_  
Doctor - _you found what I needed. it’s fine._  
Marion - _it's not fine. you’d have bollocked anyone else. why not me?_  
Doctor - _you know exactly why. we’ll talk tonight. I love you._  
Marion - _love you too, but I’m not happy._

“Join the club,” he muttered to himself, massaging his temples.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~*~*~ _The Smut Fairy starts to sprinkle some dust on, stops, then starts again._ ~*~*~

Ian opened the door to Rose’s flat, not entirely sure what he’d be walking into. He hadn’t spoken to her since their text conversation earlier, so he wasn’t sure what her mindset was right now. It had been a tense moment for both of them at the office, he knew, and they really needed to talk. 

But he wasn’t going quietly or meekly into the conversation. He had a hunch that she’d be displeased that he hadn’t bollocked her, but there was no way in hell he’d apologize for that. He’d _never_ fucking apologize for that. They had to keep up pretenses in order to keep their story intact, and he was aware of that. He accepted that. But he’d be damned to hellfire eternal before he _ever_ mistreated Rose for _any_ reason.

Things still needed to be smoothed over, though, and he was ready to do what it took to make things okay. He felt sure that he could get things sorted. Belatedly, it occurred to him that he could have brought flowers or something to ease things. Too late now, he supposed. Maybe that was better. He wasn’t in a fucking flowery mood, anyway.

He lay his coat over his usual chair, then locked the door behind himself. Something smelled divine. He’d been pleasantly surprised to discover that Rose was a good cook. She seemed to enjoy trying out new recipes, which was no hardship for him. So far, he’d loved everything she’d made. It helped that so far nothing had had pears. 

She had her back to him and he wondered about her mood. Usually he’d slide up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her neck. That didn’t feel like the correct course of action tonight, though, and he stood in the doorway watching her, trying to figure out what the fuck to do. He’d frightened her today. Was she still frightened?

_God, I’ll never fucking forgive myself if she is._

“I know you’re there, you know,” she said without even looking up. 

“I know,” he answered. “I’m trying to decide if me touching you would be welcome.”

She turned around enough to see him, her hands still covered in flour. “Of course your touch is welcome. It’s always welcome.”

“Is it? Even after today?”

“Yes,” she answered decisively, then turned back around. Rose stepped over to the sink and cut the water on, washing her hands. When she was done, she used a towel to dry them, getting the rest of the flour off, then laid the towel down. 

“Ian,” she started, walking towards him. He didn’t move. “Do you understand why I’m upset?”

“I think so, although it seems fucking barmy and misplaced.”

She slid her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “You should have bollocked me.”

“Never,” he shook his head.

“Ian -”

“ _Never_ , Rose, do you understand me?”

She didn’t release her hold around his waist, but her words were admonishing. “You said you weren’t going to treat me any different when we were at work.”

“I know what I said.”

“Then why -”

“You fucking know why!” he burst out, stepping out of her embrace. “I promised you. _Promised_ you, Rose. And the promises I have made to you - the promises I _will make_ to you - are fucking sacred to me! They outweigh any other considerations, alright? I swore to you that I’d never treat you that way, and I meant it. I never will.”

“Ian -”

“I’m a barrister, Rose, and jokes abound about how dishonest barristers are. Rule number one - barristers lie. And I’m not even going to try to pretend that I’m any sort of angel. But goddammit, sweetheart, you’re _different_. You’re _special._ You deserve more than empty promises from me, you deserve more than broken words. And I mean to see that you get it!”

Rose took a step towards him, but he wasn’t done. 

“I’m not going to lie to you, Rose. If I tell you I’m going to do something, I’m going to fucking do it! If I tell you I’m _not_ going to do something, it’s not going to happen! Period!”

She lay one hand on his chest and looked up at him with wide, brown eyes. “Ian -”

He took her by the shoulders, fighting the urge to shake her, to do whatever was needed to make her understand. “I _love_ you, sweetheart. Don’t you see? I _love_ you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, sotto, and the sound of her voice soothed him. 

“Then what’s the problem?” he asked, imploring, not understanding.

“It’s not fair. I shouldn’t get special treatment because I’m important to you.”

“You’re not just important to me, Rose, you’re my _everything_. And I don’t care how fair it is or isn’t. I don’t give a fuck. Those wankers don’t matter to me. _You_ do.”

“But what about the people -”

“I don’t love them,” he said simply. “I don’t. They are just on the periphery of my world. You, sweetheart…” He took her into his arms and pulled her close. “You - you mean…” He shook his head, frustrated, then sighed. “You _are_ my world.”

She went up on tiptoes, turning her lips up for a kiss. He met her halfway - he’d always meet her halfway - and her lips on his were a balm. She caught his bottom lip between hers and suckled it. In turn, his hands went to her hips, fingers flexing and squeezing the soft flesh there. The kiss deepened and her tongue was first to go exploring in his mouth. He welcomed her, completely engrossed in the taste and feel of her. A set of short fingernails scratched his scalp and he shivered deliciously. 

Ian broke the kiss and immediately couldn’t remember why. “Rose…” he began, still without any idea what he’d intended to say. He frankly didn’t care, not with her lips and teeth nipping at his neck like that. He lay his head to the side automatically to allow her more access.

“You know what I think?” she purred against his throat, and he clenched his eyes shut. 

“What?”

“I think,” she paused and nipped at his adam’s apple, “that my bloke is uptight.” He felt her hands at his belt and sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Yeah,” he said in a voice that was a bit squeaky, then cleared his throat. “I’m a little uptight at the moment.”

“Now what kind of girlfriend would I be,” she unbuttoned his trousers and pulled down the zip, “if I didn’t do everything in my power to loosen him up?”

Her hand closed around him and he made a garbled sound, his hands tightening on her, fighting the urge to beg her for -

“The worst kind of girlfriend,” she concluded, stroking him, dragging her thumb over the head. “Really,” she said, sounding coy, “it’s my duty.”

Through the fog in his brain, he took a bit of umbrage. “It’s not your duty to - _oh fucking Christ_...”

Rose had dropped to her knees and taken him into her mouth, wasting no time before she started up a fantastic rhythm. Ian reached one hand out, blindly, and propped himself up, not quite trusting himself to stand under his own power and needing the support. His other hand went to the back of her head, not guiding, just touching. He looked down at Rose on her knees, bringing him pleasure just because she wanted to, and his heart swelled, even through the haze of lust he was swimming in. She winked at him and kept up her rhythmic bobbing and sucking. 

Rose had learned through nearly three months of practice that he responded well to vibrations, so she started humming around him. He drew a ragged breath and clutched the doorjamb in a white-knuckled grip. 

It was so good… _too_ good...and he could feel his balls start to draw up.

“I’m getting close…” She hummed and his eyes rolled back in his head. “ _Fuck_ , Rose…I’m getting close...gonna come…”

The buzzer sounded and Rose pulled off of him suddenly, her eyes wide and staring in the direction of the door. He cried out, a nearly agonized sound.

“Mum!” she gasped, jumping to her feet.

“Rose, _please_ ,” he begged. He’d been _so close_.

“We can’t let her see us like this!”

“I don’t give a fuck… _please_ , sweetheart…”

She turned around and put her hands on his shoulders, kissing him quickly. “Go. Get changed for dinner.”

“What am I -” he started, his cock still out, comically erect. “ _Dinner?_ ”

“Yes, we’re having dinner with my mother tonight.”

“But Rose…”

“Go take care of it if you need to.” She paused for a second and gave him a naughty, saucy grin. Before he could react, she’d bent and swirled her tongue around the tip. Ian sucked in a sharp breath, then she kissed where her tongue had just been and stood back up to smile at him, her tongue between her teeth. “Or you can wait until later, and I’ll take care of it for you.”

The buzzer sounded again, and Jackie’s voice came over the intercom. He stared at her, wide-eyed and horrified. “You are evil. Fucking _evil_ , Rose Tyler.”

She just grinned mischievously at him, and the buzzing grew more insistent. Rose looked away, towards the door, then back at him. “Go! Hurry!”

Defeated, Ian pulled his trousers up, tucking himself back in with a grimace, and started for the bedroom to put on some other clothes. Rose stood by the front door, watching him, apparently amused by his grumbling about Jackie the harridan and her shitty fucking timing. He heard Rose press the buzzer to let her mother in as he shut the door behind himself.

~*~O~*~

Ian collapsed backwards onto the bed, panting with exertion, mouth open wide and eyes closed as aftershocks ricocheted through his body. Rose fell off of him, face first and a little to the left, gasping. His still-hard, hypersensitive cock slid out of her and they both made a strangled little sound from the sensation. He wanted to hold her, wanted to fold her into his arms, but his skin still felt like it was ready to jump off of him. He suspected that Rose wasn’t quite ready to be held, either, if her status of half-straddling him while face-down in the pillow and trembling was any indication.

He smiled to himself, taking in the sight of her, tousled, glistening with sweat and absolutely stunning. _That’s okay. I can wait._

When breathing for both of them had evened out a bit and he didn’t shudder from the slightest touch, he decided he’d waited long enough. He raised his head and kissed the shoulder nearest him, lying on his chest. Rose shivered a bit but responded to his wordless request, pulling her body in so that she was lying on her side beside him. He helped with that by sliding his arm under her head and, despite the fact he was still hot, he hooked the duvet with his foot and brought it up to cover them. 

Rose snuggled into his side, splaying her fingers wide over his chest, and he settled back in, contentment rolling off him in waves. They lay together quietly while pulses and respirations returned to normal, and Ian basked in her nearness.

“I love you,” she said. He smiled, as happy as he could ever remember being.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he answered on a contented sigh. 

“Worth the wait?”

He have her a disgruntled look, but there was no heat to it. “That was fucking cruel, Rose Tyler.”

She giggled and turned her head to kiss his chest. “I know. I’m sorry. I panicked.”

“Can we leave your mum standing outside next time? Hmm?”

“No, that’s rude.”

“I have absolutely no fucking problem being rude. Especially to your mother.”

It was her turn to give him a mock glare, and he grinned. Rose went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “But I won’t get anything started if I know she’s coming. Promise.”

He sighed dramatically. “I guess that’ll have to do.” Rose giggled again and he tugged her closer, then covered her hand on his chest, stilling it. 

“Feeling better?” she asked, propping her head on an elbow.

“Top of the fucking world,” he grinned. “I’m lying in bed with the woman I love after making love to her. Don’t think I’ve ever been better.”

She smiled at him, then dipped her head to press a kiss to his bare chest. A thrill that felt like a pulse of electricity went through his body, and he closed his eyes for just a moment to cherish the feeling of her lips on his skin. Rose snuggled back down into his embrace and he turned his head to press a lingering kiss to her temple while she wound her fingers through the sparse hair on his chest. 

“Why better?” 

“Hmm?”

“Why did you ask me if I felt better?” he asked, drawing desultory little circles on her bare arm. 

“Oh. You’ve just been...off,” she answered, sounding a bit uncomfortable. “Your mood at work has been darker and you seem...distracted when we’re together.”

Ignoring her words and their implications for the moment, he decided to keep up the playful mood as long as it could last. “You certainly weren’t complaining that I was fucking distracted a few minutes ago.”

She let out a low, sexy chuckle and undulated against him a little. “No, you were utterly single-minded, as always.”

“Problem with that?”

“Not at all. I rather enjoy your single-mindedness.”

Ian grinned, smug, and let himself luxuriate in masculine pride for a minute. Then his smile faded and he waited to see if she’d return to the original subject. If he knew his sweetheart, she wouldn’t be letting it go. 

She didn’t disappoint. 

“You just haven’t been yourself lately,” she went on. 

“I’m fine, sweetheart.”

Rose rubbed a circle on his chest with her forefinger. Quietly, she said, “I’m worried about you. If you tell me what’s bothering you, we can deal with it together.”

He heaved a sigh. From anyone else, he’d have suspected that he was being manipulated, but not his Rose. Never his Rose. Ian didn’t want to worry her, but didn’t see a way around it, either. She’d worry if he kept it to himself, and she’d worry if he told her what was on his mind. At least if he told her, she could be on guard. 

“Things feel different,” he started. “At work.”

“Different how?”

“I can’t put my finger on it. I just...I just fucking know something’s off.”

“You’re being paranoid,” she suggested. 

“I’m not. This afternoon, someone called you my teacher's pet.”

“Yeah, Vastra made a joke about me being the favorite. That’s the price we’re going to have to pay for you not bollocking me. But it’s not a big deal, we’ll just keep avoiding each other.”

He grunted noncommittally, suspecting that she was being evasive. He couldn’t see her face to tell.

“Is that what’s been bothering you?”

“Yeah,” he confessed.

“I think you’re just being paranoid,” she repeated herself. “We’ve done everything right, Ian. It’ll be okay.” Ian didn’t answer, he just laid there. Rose claimed not to be worried about it, but he was sure that was bravado. It had to be.

She stretched her body and kissed his cheek, but he didn’t react as she settled back down into the crook of his arm. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he answered absently. The vague sense of foreboding was becoming less vague, and he sensed it would only get worse.


	24. Chapter 24

_23 March, 2017_

Ian leaned back in his chair, not even pretending to care about the proceedings anymore. He threaded his fingers behind his head and kicked his feet up on the conference table, ignoring the rude look Sarah Jane was giving him. He couldn’t think of anything _more_ boring than the monthly partners’ meeting. He tried to daydream, but the voices around him wouldn’t let him. 

“...And that’s why I propose we seek to lease either the 40th or 43rd floor,” Jo Grant was concluding. 

_I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t fucking care._

“How would you divide the floors, more than they are now?” Alistair asked. 

“Just like floors 41 and 42, there are fifteen offices, three conference rooms and a large bullpen. Acquiring the 40th or 43rd floor would give each associate his or her own office and create more room in the bullpen for support staff. The senior and junior partners would be free to take the most choice offices, of course.”

“Of course,” Alistair agreed. “That’ll give us forty-five offices for thirty-eight associates and partners. Is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ian tried to let his mind wander to where he was going to take Rose next. Italy. Italy might be nice...

“What if we expand?” Sarah Jane asked, breaking into his reverie. “That gives us only seven offices to grow, then we’ll be back in the same position we’re in now, with associates in the bullpen. If we’re going to do this, I say we double our space.”

“Agreed,” Alistair nodded. “Any discussion?”

Ian silently dared someone to speak up, but the people around the table shook their heads. 

“Jo, inquire about leasing two floors. Don’t blink at whatever number is thrown out; Ms. Smith, Mr. Docherty and myself will handle that.”

“Yes, sir.” Jo sat down.

“Is there anything else?”

“We need new headshots for the directory, especially since we have a new associate.”

Ian perked up just a little at the mention of Rose.

Sarah Jane made an almost impatient gesture. “Do what needs doing.”

The partner nodded, jotting in his portfolio.

“Is there anything else?” Sarah Jane asked, and Ian took a moment to pray that no one else would say anything. 

No one did. “Thank you, everybody, meeting adjourned.”

Ian did his best to look as bored and unaffected as he was supposed to, but inside he was nothing but giddy. He closed his portfolio and got to his feet. 

“Ian, if you could stay for just a minute?” Sarah Jane requested. He blinked, then shrugged. There wasn’t a senior partner meeting scheduled, but there was probably some business or another that needed attending. The senior partner meetings were never as boring as the meetings with the juniors in attendance as well, so at least there was that. He flopped back down into the leather executive chair, crossing his ankles on the table while the junior partners all filed out, watching them go with a smirk. 

Once the last one had left and the door was closed, he turned towards Alistair and Sarah Jane across the table. “Boring lot, aren’t they?”

Neither answered, but both were looking at him. 

“What?” he demanded, as casually as he could, fighting the nagging fear he felt. 

“Ian…” Sarah Jane started, but Alistair cut her off. 

“We know.”

He felt a jolt of panic from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers. “Know what?”

“About you and Rose Tyler. We know.”

He peered at both of them. Alistair looked severe, forbidding, and his eyes hadn’t left Ian’s yet. Sarah Jane, for her part, wouldn’t meet his eyes. She looked distinctly uncomfortable with the situation she found herself in. Neither reaction did much to soothe him. 

“Who?”

“Don’t try that, Ian,” Sarah Jane said. “You and I both know that you know who she is.”

He rolled his eyes, hoping to seem bored. “Yeah, alright. I’m aware of her. What about it?”

“You’re having an affair with her,” Alistair accused.

Ian bristled at once. He’d known that someone would dare call his relationship with Rose an affair, but he hadn’t been prepared to hear it. He clenched and unclenched his hands in a bid to maintain control. “I most certainly am _not_ ,” he growled, honestly and with great conviction. 

“You are,” Alistair replied calmly. “And we know all about it.”

“Oh, you know all about it,” Ian scoffed. “Just what the fuck do you _think_ you know?”

“Ian -” Sarah Jane started, but he cut her off. 

“No, I want to know. What the fuck do you think you know, Alistair?”

“You’ve been in some type of relationship with the Tyler girl since January, at least...”

_Stop calling her ‘girl’._

“...So a little over two months, best we can figure.”

“No,” Ian denied. “That is not correct.”

_It’s actually been three months today._

Alistair raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip quirked up. Ian had seen Alistair wear that look many, many times, and it never boded well for whoever was up against him. He braced for whatever was coming.

“You’ve been winking at the girl as you walk by her. Several people have seen it.”

“Don’t you people ever fucking blink?” _Stop calling her ‘girl’._

Alistair chuckled, but it was a dark, malevolent sound. “So you always feel the need to blink with one eye while looking at her?”

“This is horse shit. What kind of fucking evidence is this to call me out on? What I do with my eyes and how I blink is proof of nothing - and also none of your goddamn business, Alistair.” 

“What about me?” Sarah Jane piped up. “Is it my business? Because when you bumped into her that day in my office, you _undressed_ her with your eyes! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

He’d actually _fucked_ her with his eyes, but he wasn’t about to say such a thing out loud. 

“I didn’t -”

Sarah Jane held up a hand. “ _Don’t_ , Ian. Don’t you dare call me a liar. We’ve never done that to each other, in all the years we’ve been friends. I know what I saw and I know what it was. I can’t be convinced otherwise.”

His mind spun and reeled, looking for a way out of this.

“Quite a lot of murmuring about you back in January, Ian. Around the time all this started.”

“Oh yeah?”

Alistair nodded. “Hmm. Seemed there were quite a few rumors flying because you seemed to have tamed your temper.”

“New Year’s Resolution. Decided to be less of a fucking prick. It didn’t stick.” He looked at Sarah Jane and almost smirked. “They never fucking do.”

“New Year’s Resolution. I see,” Alistair said in a dry tone that spoke clearly to his disbelief. “Quite a few people were under the impression that you’d found yourself a girlfriend.”

"What fucking people? Christ, Alistair, are you calling me on the carpet based on gossip? Because that's all this is. Supposition at best. 

Alistair gave him a disbelieving smirk, and Ian chose to retreat a bit. He decided to try a partial confession, hoping it would cover a multitude of sins. 

“Alright. Fine. Fucking fine. I admit it. I find her...attractive.” _To say the least._ “If you’ll recall, I all but fucking said so at the meeting in January.”

“Is that why you two were spotted coming out of a copy room together shortly after that meeting? A couple of days, I think it was.” 

Ian was brought up short. “I -”

“Miss Tyler was apparently…” Alistair looked down at his legal pad. “Ah, here it is. She was ‘crying and visibly shaken’. She left with Amy Williams while Clara tended to you.”

He didn’t get a chance to respond before Sarah Jane was going on. “Clara came to see me that day and said that Rose was sick and had gone home.”

Ian opened his mouth again, but Alistair cut him off this time. He shifted his gaze to the older man. “Was she sick? And if so, what was she doing in a copy room with you?”

He could lie, deny it ever happened, but there were witnesses and, if they really wanted to prove him a liar, security footage from the hallway. He decided on another partial truth. 

“She’d heard about my nay vote and was very upset. Clara told me. I wanted to explain.” _There. I didn’t fucking lie._

Alistair’s tone was dry and spoke clearly to his disbelief. “Also at the January meeting, you complained that there were blokes hanging around her desk all the time. You named -” he checked his notepad again “- Adam Mitchell as one of the young men who bothered her. A few weeks later, you thoroughly bollocked him in the bullpen for being near her desk.”

Oh, good. Something he could defend. _Fucking finally._

“That little fucker Mitchell had been harassing her for _months_ , and he was escalating. He’d been told ‘no’ multiple times, both by Ms. Tyler and the friends that were concerned enough about the situation that they wouldn’t leave her alone with him. He ignored them all and pursued her anyway.”

“So you leapt to defend her honor?”

“You’re goddamn right I did!” Ian jumped to his feet. “And it didn’t have a fucking thing to do with honor. My sole concern was her _safety_.”

Alistair seemed unperturbed by the pacing man in front of him. “Why didn’t you sack Mitchell, if you were so concerned?”

Ian cracked his neck and scrambled for a reason. “I wanted to confer with the two of you, particularly since he was your associate and not mine,” he lied. It was lame and he knew it. Their disbelieving looks told him that they knew it, too. “Believe me, had I seen him there again, I was going to sack him _and_ bring him up on charges.”

_There. At least that was true._

“The girl wasn’t especially pleased with your defense of her, was she?”

“How do you mean?” _Stop calling her fucking ‘girl’._

“I mean that you took her into your office and the two of you argued.”

“It wasn’t -”

“There are witnesses,” Alistair went on, heedless of Ian’s clenched fists, “who heard her shouting at you. It actually seemed you were the quieter of the two of you. Not your standard bollocking, is it?”

“She was the fucking victim, Alistair. I wasn’t out to give her a standard fucking bollocking.”

“Then there’s Danny Pink, your PA, who said - under questioning - that on that day, as she exited, he heard Ms. Tyler say, ‘Go to hell, Ian’.”

Ian took a deep breath to calm himself as much as possible. “Yes. I was angry with her for not reporting the harassment sooner. _She_ got angry with _me_ for being angry to begin with. Rather fucking cyclical.” 

“‘ _Go to hell, Ian_ ’,” Alistair repeated. “A sentiment that most of us can appreciate from time to time, but that’s a statement that would take brass bollocks for a brand new associate to make to a senior partner, isn’t it? Especially calling you by name?”

Alistair’s tone was almost mocking, and Ian was just about done with it. “Alistair -”

“And then there was the missing Maratha file on Monday.”

Ian cringed internally. He’d known - he’d _known_ that would come back to bite them. 

He still wasn’t one bit sorry. 

“What the fuck about it?”

Sarah Jane spoke for the first time in a while. “She had your missing file, and when she _told_ you she had it, you did nothing more than thank her.”

“And?”

“Ian,” Sarah Jane said, stepping forward and reaching for him a little - Ian thought she might even take his hand, but she withdrew. “Anyone else in this firm would have received a vicious verbal tirade. A bollocking. But not her. Why?”

Ian cracked his knuckles. “Look, I already told you I’m fucking attracted to her. Why would I bollock someone I’m interested in? No matter how completely fucking unlikely it is that something may happen, why would I want to put a nail in the coffin and ensure she never speaks to me again?”

“Look, we just -”

He cut Sarah Jane off. “All you have here is a handful of circumstantial fucking evidence. It’s nothing. All of it is easily explained away - I’ve just fucking done it. You and I both know that -”

Alistair didn’t say anything, just tossed a manila envelope across the table to where Ian was pacing. He stopped and the envelope glided on the smooth surface until it came to a stop by his long fingers. 

With a pounding heart, Ian opened the envelope and shook the contents out into his hand. 

It was a photograph - dark and a little grainy, but clear enough. He and Rose were on the street corner near her flat, and they were holding hands. Both were smiling and Rose was looking up at him as if she believed he’d hung the moon. Even as stunned and horrified as he felt, the corner of his mouth quirked up an infinitesimal amount. The idea that she would look at him that way - 

No. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. There were bigger fish to fry right now. 

Someone had been following Rose.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, sounding strangled even in his own ears. 

“That came to us yesterday,” Alistair said calmly. “It was the last bit of proof we needed to confront you about this affair.”

“It’s not a fucking affair.”

“Oh, it’s not?” Alistair made a gesture with his head. “Take a look at the other one. It’s even more irrefutable.”

Ian did, and Alistair was right. It had been taken at almost the same time, but in this one Rose had her head on his shoulder and he was leaning over a bit, kissing her forehead as they walked. 

“Where did you fucking get these?” he demanded, his voice stronger now.

“What does it matter?”

“It fucking _matters_ because someone knows where Rose lives and has gone there! It’s not fucking safe for her!” He threw the pictures down and raked his fingers through his hair, pacing a short distance. 

“You called her Rose,” Sarah Jane said softly.

Ian’s head snapped up. “What?”

“You called her Rose.”

“Of course I fucking called her Rose,” he snapped. “She’s my fucking girlfriend.”

“So you _are_ having an affair with this girl?”

Ian spun around, leveling a finger at Alistair and channeling all of the Oncoming Storm he could gather into his voice. “Don’t. Don’t you fucking _dare_ call it that. It’s not a fucking affair. And I swear to the baby Christ if you don’t stop calling her ‘girl’...”

“What the hell is it then, Ian?” 

He didn’t answer, didn’t feel the need to explain or justify himself to these people. He didn’t owe them a goddamn thing, not when it came to this. Besides... his mind was reeling. People were following her to her flat. What the hell else were they doing?

Ian scrubbed his face with his hands, pulling at his cheeks, trying to think. 

“Where did the picture come from? Where did you get it?”

“Does it -”

“ _Yes, it goddamn well matters!_ I need to know she’s _safe_.”

“It came through the post. No return address. Arrived yesterday,” Sarah Jane supplied. 

Ian started pacing again. That was no fucking use at all. He needed to know -

“Mitchell,” he muttered. “That little fucker…”

“Now, Ian,” Sarah Jane started. 

“I’m going to kill him.”

“You’re in a room full of barristers, Docherty. Might want to watch what you say.”

“He’s fucking stalking Rose!”

“There’s no proof of that,” Sarah Jane said in a soothing, imploring voice. “None at all. If there’s ever any evidence to support it, we will absolutely handle it.”

Ian nodded absently, accepting her words. There wasn’t anything anyone could do at the moment, everything was unproven. But he knew. He _knew_ that the little fucker had followed Rose home. 

“I never would have thought it of you, Docherty,” Alistair said speculatively. 

“You not thinking; sounds about right,” he grumbled, not even sparing a glance in his direction. 

“Twenty years, I’ve known you. Quite a long time. And I’ve never once seen you like this, your head turned by an...admittedly tasty morsel.”

“Alistair!” Sarah Jane admonished. Ian didn’t hear her. 

“Watch yourself, Alistair,” he snarled. “Insult her like that again, and I may end up arrested for assault.”

Sarah Jane said something in a warning tone, but Ian didn’t hear her and Alistair was not bothered in the least. He just sat there, smirking, not caring how dangerous a mood Ian was in. 

“I thought you were smarter than that, Docherty. You should have seen her coming a mile away.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Alistair sat forward in his chair a bit, and Ian would swear his eyes were twinkling maliciously. "Why do you think she chose you, hmm? It has nothing to do with you, personally. You want to think it does, but it doesn’t. She's playing the game, climbing the ladder."

Sarah Jane made a scandalized, gasping noise, but Ian ignored her. He leaned over and placed his hands on the table, his blue eyes sparking with energy and anger, and it was clear how he’d earned the nickname ‘the Oncoming Storm’.

"First of all, I have no fucking clue why she chose me, but I know damn well it wasn't to advance her career and I’m goddamn glad she did. Second, fuck you for accusing her of something like that, you sack of shit." He pushed off the table to standing then went back to pacing like an angry, caged predator.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Sarah Jane interrupted, holding her hands up between the two of them from her end of the table. “We’ve all been friends a very long time. Let’s remember that while we’re discussing this...situation.”

“Rose is not a ‘situation’,” Ian snapped at Sarah Jane. He almost felt bad about it, considering she was the closest thing he had to an ally, but he was too angry to differentiate who should receive his wrath at the moment. “And she’s not a fucking ‘tasty morsel’ either.”

Alistair’s smile was like a shark: all teeth and no warmth. Predatory. “You know, Docherty, most men just buy a car or something.”

“I’m not having a fucking midlife crisis.”

He raised a sardonic eyebrow. “No? So you recklessly endangered and probably ruined a brilliant young woman’s career for fun?”

Ian spoke through clenched teeth with balled fists. “Fuck you, Alistair.”

“Because it _is_ ruined,” he went on, leaning back in his chair and closing his portfolio. “You two can’t work together. One of you has to go.”

“Alistair!” Sarah Jane gasped. “That’s not what we-”

Ian jumped to attention and snapped off a salute. “Nice fucking knowing you.”

He turned to walk to the door of the conference room.

“Ian,” Sarah Jane called out. “Ian, _wait_. Let’s talk about this.”

Ian spun on his heel. “I’m done fucking talking. Alistair laid the ultimatum. My job or Rose’s. There's no fucking decision to make, really.” He gave a mocking little bow. “Please excuse me.” He opened the door, stepped out into the corridor, and slammed it behind him.

~*~O~*~

Rose jumped when the door to the conference room slammed, as did everyone else in the bullpen. She watched with concern as Ian’s long strides gobbled up the floor to his office. He looked as angry as she’d ever seen him; he was positively furious. She hoped he’d glance over at her like he usually did, but he merely opened his mouth and yelled.

“ _Clara!_ ”

If the bullpen hadn’t been silent before, it was now. 

Clara stood up from where she’d been crouched by someone’s desk. “Yeah?”

“My office,” he said with a jerk of his head, and Clara went meekly, apparently intimidated by this mood as well. Once she was in, Ian slammed the door behind her. 

Rose stared at the closed door for a second, wondering what had made him so angry. He’d been in a meeting with the senior partners, but he usually got on well with them. She’d never heard him complain about Alistair or Sarah Jane, except to laugh that Alistair had a stick up his arse and Sarah Jane was a bleeding heart, but that was okay because when you threw in that he was a powder keg, they all balanced each other out quite well.

“What happened?” Amy whispered from across the aisle, breaking into her thoughts. Quiet murmurs and the sounds of office activity started back up around them. 

“I don’t know,” Rose admitted. “He seems upset.”

Amy snorted. “Him being upset is not unusual. That _level_ of upset…”

Rose whirled her head around when the click of the office door cut through the relative quiet. Clara stepped out, looking somber and afraid. Her eyes darted to Rose’s and she gave a tiny shake of the head, then stepped to her desk and started loading a box.

“He sacked _Clara_!?” Amy hissed. “Why the hell would he sack _Clara_!?”

“I don’t think he did,” Rose murmured. Her sense of discomfort was growing. Something wasn’t right about all of this, this wasn’t his typical temper. But she couldn’t put her finger on it. Ian had told her earlier in the week that he’d felt changes in the wind, leading him to believe that they were about to be outed. Had they been? Was that what had him so upset? What _had_ happened in that partner’s meeting?

Why was Clara packing?

“Do you think -” Amy started, but cut herself off, staring towards Ian’s office. Rose turned to follow her gaze. Ian stood in the doorway, his eyes like blue flames, cricket bat in hand, staring at her. Rose got to her feet, knowing instinctively she needed to be standing, and his lip quirked. 

He came to her in four long strides, and Rose was reaching for him by the time he got there. His fingers slid around the back of her head, pulling her to him and he slammed his lips down onto hers, kissing her fiercely, triumphantly. 

Rose wrapped her arms around Ian’s shoulders and carded the fingers of one hand through his hair as he leaned her backwards, bringing his arm that was holding the cricket bat up and around her waist for support. His tongue plundered her mouth in the best possible way, and she kissed him back with all of the love and passion she felt for him, uncaring of who saw or what they thought. She thought she may have heard some cheers and a wolf-whistle through the roaring silence in the office, but her higher thought processes were otherwise engaged. 

Ian didn’t bother gentling the kiss, he just broke it, leaving Rose still bent back over his arm and panting. She opened her eyes to look into his and, although he was clearly still angry, there was a tenderness there, a twinkle that only she ever saw. 

“See you at home,” he said, just loud enough to be clearly heard by the dumbstruck people in surrounding cubicles, then gave her one more hard kiss and set her back on her feet, spinning away from her, leaving her a little unsteady. 

“Where’s Mitchell?” he demanded. His eyes darted around the silent bullpen for a second, then landed on Adam. The younger man got to his feet and was clearly trying to look defiant, but only succeeded in looking scared. Rose didn’t blame him. 

Ian took a step in Adam’s general direction, and his grin was simultaneously menacing and smug. He gave Adam a rude, two-fingered gesture. 

“She’s _mine _, you needledicked little fucker.”__

__Amy snorted a laugh into her hand, and Rose couldn’t help but grin a little, even as tense as the situation was. Her mad Scotsman with a bat had just clearly marked his territory, and she knew he’d been dying to do that for three months._ _

__Claim thoroughly staked, Ian started towards the exit, Clara trailing behind with a box. He stopped just before he rounded the corner to the lift and turned to face everyone._ _

__“I’d love to say it’s been a real treat, but if I did, I’d be a filthy fucking liar. So really, there’s nothing to say but,” he raised the hand holding the bat and gave a military salute. “ _Fuckity bye_!”_ _

__Ian winked at her as he was turning on his heel to leave, rounding the corner. In the distance the lift bell dinged, clearly audible through the stunned silence in the office, and Rose knew he was gone. Several people were staring at her where she still stood, and she had no idea what to do or say._ _

__She had just smoothed her skirt and bent to sit down when she heard Sarah Jane’s voice._ _

__“Rose, if you please?”_ _

__Rose exchanged a glance with Amy, then straightened and nodded to Sarah Jane. Head held high, she went to the conference room to face the senior partners._ _


	25. Chapter 25

The sound of Ian’s guitar floated through the flat to where Rose stood in the foyer, peeling off her wet coat. She’d expected him to be in his study playing - she’d have been shocked if he hadn’t been - but she hadn’t expected the _tone_ of his playing to sound like it did. It was frenetic and loud, yes, but it was also in a major key and sounded...happy. Hopeful. _Excited_. She’d expected the blues, but she was getting rock-n-roll. 

Confused and intrigued, she toed off her soaked shoes and started down the corridor, following the sound. 

He had his back to her as he played, and Rose took a leaf out of his book, leaning in the doorway to watch him for a minute. She wanted to know what the senior partners had said and done to inspire a walkout like that, but accepted that he might never tell her. Not the whole story, anyway.

So she watched her madman, appreciating his talent and the view. She loved him, loved him so much it almost hurt sometimes, and she’d known that the charade would end at some point. She’d just hoped to have a bit more time for the two of them to settle into each other before they had to make tough decisions. Truth be told, though, she was blissfully content in this life with Ian, and he was probably as settled as he’d ever allow himself to be. 

Ian turned around while he played, stopping the song he was playing when he spotted her. He grinned hugely and played a riff for her that she didn’t recognize, taking a step towards her. She grinned back. She couldn’t help it, even under the circumstances his joy was catching. Rose pushed off the door frame and started towards him. He whipped his guitar over his head and placed it, one-handed, on the stand while he flipped a switch on the amp and dropped his pick. Then he spun around, his face bright and happy, and strode forward, closing the distance to her. Without a word, he wrapped her up into his arms in an almost crushing hug. She didn’t complain, she just slid her arms around his chest and stood there, letting the comforting feel and smell of him wash over her, feeling the beat of his heart against her cheek.

He was hers, this amazing, daft man, and whatever happened as a result was worth it. Being with him made everything totally worth it.

Ian was kissing the side of her head with firm presses of his lips, and she smiled a little. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, leaning back from her a bit. One of his hands cupped the side of her face and the other raked wet tendrils of hair back behind her ear. His eyes searched her face, as if looking for some injury. 

“I’m fine,” she assured him, placing her hands on his forearms. “Just fine.”

“It’s only lunchtime.”

“I know.”

“Did they -”

“Did they what?” she asked, curious about the vehemence in his tone. 

He didn’t answer, just pursed his lips a little and deflected. “What did they say to you?”

Rose shook her head and curled her hands around his, lowering them until they were by her sides. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not just yet.”

He bristled. “If they sacked you, Rose, I’ll - ”

“You’ll do nothing,” she cut him off. “You’ve made your point.” He opened his mouth to speak again and she held up a hand. “They didn’t sack me. I’m on paid leave. Indefinitely.”

Ian’s eyes darkened - Rose could see the Storm just behind them - but they cleared almost at once and he lowered his head to kiss her softly. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

"Good. Now get dressed. We're going out."

He dropped another quick kiss to her lips and walked away. Rose regained her balance after being released so suddenly and stared at him as he left the study and started towards the stairs. "What? Where are we going? And why?" she asked, following belatedly.

"In the order asked," he started, turning at the top of the stairs to look at her as she climbed the steps behind him, walking backwards towards his bedroom, "we're going out, haven't the foggiest, and because we fucking can."

“Ian - “

“There’s no reason to stay in anymore, Rose! Don’t you see? We’re free! We can go wherever we want, do whatever we want, and there’s nothing that anyone can do about it!” She finally caught up to him and he grabbed her around the waist, lowering his head so that his face was level with hers. “I can snog you right in the middle of Piccadilly Circus and there isn’t a damn thing anyone can do about it.”

Rose grinned. “So you want to take me to Piccadilly Circus and snog me just to prove a point?”

“Might do,” he grinned, then kissed the tip of her nose. “But no, that’s not what I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind, then?” she grinned, catching his enthusiasm. 

“Lunch! I want to take my sweetheart to lunch. Although I admit,” he said with brilliantly blue, sparkling eyes. “I’ll probably ask for a table instead of a booth, just to show you off.”

“Lunch it is,” she agreed, going to her drawer and digging out a more casual outfit. 

“How many changes of clothes do you have here?” he asked in a speculative tone.

“Two, I think,” she answered, slipping off her skirt. “Maybe three. Why?”

“You need a week’s worth.” He waved aside the inconvenience while Rose looked at him with knotted brows. “Nevermind. We’ll stop by your flat and you can get what you need.”

“What I need for _what_?”

“To go away for week or two.”

She shook her head in confusion. “We’re going away for a week?”

“Maybe two,” he answered, grinning like the mischievous boy he was acting like.

“Where are we going?”

“No idea,” he admitted. “Wanted to get your input about that. Thought that would be the polite thing. But I want to take you away. Get out of town for a while.”

She looked at him, incredulous, a little wary of this ebullient mood she’d never seen from him before. “So after all this time of hiding and looking over our shoulders, when we can finally be together in public, you want to go _out of town_ for a week?”

“Maybe two,” he said again, still grinning. Then he sobered a bit. “Don’t you think we deserve to unwind a bit?”

“I - I do, I just…”

Ian approached her, cradling her face and kissing her soundly. Within a couple of minutes she was breathless and dizzy in the best possible way. When he released the kiss, she blinked until she could see him again clearly. He was acting out of character, but she supposed she could see why he would be. What goes up must come down, though, and she worried about when the relief inevitably wore off and the anxiety set in. What would he be like then? What would they do? Would he still be glad they’d left town for a week or so when the reality of their situation started to set in? 

He could apparently see the wheels turning, because he grinned at her. “Don’t even think it over, sweetheart. Just say yes.”

Rose blinked at him, then decided to ride the high he was on as long as she could. His devil-may-care attitude was catching, and there was plenty of time to worry about finding new jobs and whatnot when they got back. 

A smile uncurled across her face. “Yes.”

“Brilliant!” he near-shouted, then bent down to catch her mouth again. She gripped his shoulders to maintain her ability to stand. When he broke the kiss, he held onto her, dropping little kisses all over her face. 

“While I’ve got you in a yes-saying mindset…” he started. 

“I’m not really in the mood for sex right now, Ian.”

He pulled his head back to look at her with pursed lips and furrowed brow. “You think me some sort of fucking animal, honestly.”

“It’s not that, it’s just that I probably lost my job today, my _first_ job, and although I knew it was coming and I’m a bit relieved -”

“It’s a mindfuck,” he finished for her.

She nodded. “Yeah. That’s a good word for it.”

“I’m not trying to get you into bed. Not right now. Maybe tonight. Almost certainly tonight. Maybe a little sooner. But not right now.”

Rose giggled a little. “Tonight would be a much safer bet. But I’ve changed the subject. What were you going to ask me?”

“Move in with me.”

She blinked, stunned. “I’m sorry?”

“Move in with me,” he repeated. “I want you with me all the time.”

“I’m already with you all the time,” she said, still shocked.

“Exactly!” he said with a bright, daft grin. “We won’t be changing anything, really, just having one residence between us instead of two. Think of how much less confusing that will be!”

“Ian,” she started, not sure what she was going to say. The idea of living with him was wonderful, intoxicating, but -

“Come and live with me, sweetheart,” he asked again, circling her waist and looking down at her. “I want to wake up beside you every morning of my life.”

Rose laid her hand on his chest, wishing she could just say yes, but the logical part of her brain wouldn’t let her. “Ask me again another day,” she told him and looked up into his eyes when she felt him sag. “I’m not saying no, Ian. I’d love...l’d love to live here with you.” _Oh, God, wouldn’t I?_ “But I think we should talk about it on a day that isn’t so… emotionally charged.”

“I’m always emotionally charged with you, sweetheart.”

“You know what I mean,” she said in an almost admonishing tone, but her mouth quirked up at the sight of his grin. 

“So I should ask you again in a couple of days.”

Rose nodded. “Yeah. I think so. If you still mean it.”

“I’ll still mean it, sweetheart. I’ve been thinking about this for two months. But you’re right, it’s been an emotional day. Let’s go eat, grab some things from your flat, then go to the airport.” He hesitated for a second. “You’re still willing to come away with me, aren’t you?”

She smiled, feeling tired, like she’d lived an entire week in the six hours since she woke up in bed with Ian in her flat. “Yes, of course.”

He kissed her again, then pulled away and kissed her forehead. “You change clothes. I’ve got to get packed.”

~*~O~*~

Ian had done a lot of travelling in his forty-six years; it was probably his favorite hobby, other than playing his guitar. He’d seen and done amazing things, had had fantastic experiences. He’d always thought that those trips were fulfilling. Then Rose had come along.

Just as she had been in every other area of his life, traveling with Rose was a game-changer. All the things that had been wonderful on his own were nearly miraculous when he saw them through Rose’s eyes. She was so fascinated, so amazed, so grateful for every experience. Rose seized every moment as if it would be taken from her. She enjoyed each experience as if she’d never have another like it. 

She was utterly enchanting to watch as she learned and explored, and he was determined that she have all the fantastic experiences she wanted. 

They’d flown to Italy late Thursday night after the fateful blowup, and their plan had been to spend a couple of days in each location they visited. Venice had been the first stop, and they’d ridden the gondolas multiple times - Rose couldn’t seem to get enough of them. In the evenings he’d taken her to dinner, he’d taken her to the opera, and they’d made love every chance they had. He made sure there were plenty of chances. 

Ian was having entirely too much fun playing tour guide and history lecturer, and the opportunity to teach Rose about Milan was entirely too good to pass up. So they rented a little blue sportscar and headed east, planning to take a train to Rome when they left northern Italy. 

On the way into Milan, they’d come across a vineyard. Ian had had reservations at a five-star hotel in town, but Rose was so exhilarated by the atmosphere in the ‘country’ that he cancelled the hotel room and booked them into the vineyard’s (admittedly posh) bed and breakfast. Then he’d carried their bags in, changed his shirt, and taken his sweetheart to dinner on the terrace.

When they got back, Ian held open the door to their suite for Rose to go in before him. Once inside, he took her coat and pressed the button that turned on the stereo before he went back to her and pulled her into his arms to dance. She smiled at him but said nothing, sliding one arm around his neck and letting him hold her other hand to his chest. 

“Dinner was lovely,” she said, and he nodded. 

“It was,” he agreed. “Almost as lovely as you.”

Her tongue came to the corner of her bright smile. “Flatterer.”

“I’m just being honest,” he protested with twinkling eyes.

She smiled up at him for a second then turned her head, laying her cheek down on his chest. His heart rate picked up from the contact and he was sure she could feel it. 

“Seems like a dream,” she said softly, almost murmured. 

“What does, sweetheart?”

“The last three months. Well,” she corrected when he was preparing to speak. “Three months and three days.”

“There’s my girl,” he praised, sounding a bit smug.

Rose giggled. “It still amazes me that you’re the type bloke to know that. I didn’t expect you to be so sentimental.”

“What did you expect then?” he asked, squeezing her hand a little and swaying her. “The things people told you about me must have factored in, at least a little.”

“Nope,” she said from her place near his heart, and he could hear the smile in her voice. 

“Not even a little?”

“Not even at all,” she assured him. “I knew better, somehow. That entire year, watching you, wishing for you, I knew you couldn’t be the gruff monster you seemed to be. I knew that you weren’t that two-dimensional, that there was more to you.” She sank into him a bit more as if to accent her next words. “Everyone has their soft spot.”

“You’re my soft spot,” he told her, nuzzling her ear. 

“I didn’t think I’d ever find out, though,” she said, a bit more somber. “I didn’t think you’d ever notice me.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to her hair, still swaying her. “From the moment you walked into that conference room, you were on my mind. I kept trying to find ways to talk to you but couldn’t figure anything out, even as brilliant as I am.” She giggled, which was the desired effect, and he went on. “I appeased myself with gathering little tidbits of information about you where I could.”

“Like about the butter dish and creamer?” Rose raised her head and smiled at him. He couldn’t help it, he returned her smile just before he dipped his head to kiss her. 

“Similar to that, yes.”

“How _did_ you end up as my Secret Santa? I’ve never asked.”

“When Clara told me she was organizing the swap, I snuck out and pulled your name out of the bucket.”

“But...why?”

Ian’s eyes were as tender as they’d ever been as he looked into hers and answered her. “I wanted to make you smile. That’s all. I wanted to see you smile and know you were happy because of something I’d done. I wanted to know that I’d made you happy, even if you never knew it was me.”

She dragged her fingertips up and down the back of his neck, through the short hairs at the base of his head, making him shiver a little. 

“You make me smile all the time, Ian. Most of my smiles are for you.”

He felt an upwelling of emotions that he couldn’t sort out: love, joy and gratitude. He didn’t need to name the feeling: its name was Rose. 

Rose’s face grew a little somber, and he narrowed his brows. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“What are we going to do?”

“About what?”

“What are we going to do about jobs?”

He grinned down at her, then spun her out and back into his arms. “Well, you still _have_ a job, so we needn’t worry about you, yeah?”

“I’m all but sacked, Ian, you know that,” she told him in flatly. 

“Don’t count your chickens,” he advised her. “You may not be. But if you _are_ , it’ll be alright. Sarah Jane will give you a good recommendation and with that, you can get a job anywhere in the city.”

“What makes you think she’ll give me a recommendation?”

“She still owes me a few favors.”

Rose’s look instantly became hard. “Don’t. If I didn’t earn it on my own merit, I don’t want it.”

He gave her a quick kiss. “You _have_ earned it. That pupilage never would have been offered to you if you weren’t the best in the city. You’ve worked long and hard for _years_ to get to this point, Rose, and you did it against all the odds. Sarah Jane recognizes that. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

She gave him a disbelieving look, but he just grinned. “What about you?” she asked.

“What about me?”

“What will you do for work?”

“I’m fairly well-known,” he said, turning her in a slow circle and running his thumb over the back of the hand he held against his chest. “Have quite a reputation. ‘The Oncoming Storm’ and all that. I’ll be fine.”

“What happened in there?” she asked, and he nearly grinned at the way it burst out of her, like she couldn’t keep it in another minute. 

“Nothing, sweetheart.”

“Ian,” she protested lightly.

“Well, what happened in yours?”

Rose sighed at him, but went ahead. “They told me that they knew we’d been having a relationship, that you’d confessed, and asked me to tell them what happened in my own words.”

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth - or the bare bones of it. You helped me when my car broke down at Christmas, and we had an impromptu date. Then we planned another, then another.” Ian grinned down at her, and she grinned back. 

“Did you tell them we’d fallen madly in love?”

“Not in so many words,” she said. “I think the fact that we risked so much to be with each other says a lot, don’t you?”

“I agree.”

“When I was done, they put me on administrative leave until further notice and excused me.”

Ian pursed his lips. “Alistair did that?”

She shook her head. “No, Sarah Jane did most of the talking. Alistair just sat there and looked…angry.”

“Sounds about right,” he acknowledged, the suspicion he’d had since the meeting growing.

“Alright then, Mr. Docherty, I told you, now you tell me.” She poked him playfully in the chest. “What had you so angry?”

Ian toyed with the idea of telling her the complete truth, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He never wanted to repeat what Alistair had said, nor could he stand the thought of worrying her with the knowledge that someone had followed her home. 

“They had evidence,” he said instead. “And Alistair and I had a row.”

“Anything I need to know?”

He shook his head and kissed her softly. “No, sweetheart.”

They swayed for a while, safe in each other’s embrace, Rose with her head back on his chest, and Ian with his cheek on the top of her head. They’d go to bed soon, and he’d make love to her until they were both limp with exhaustion, but he treasured these moments just as much, if not more. These moments when there was nothing that needed to be said, when no words were necessary. She knew that he loved her and he knew that she loved him - and they both knew that their place was by each other’s side.

“Ian?”

“Hmm?”

“You asked me the other day...you know…”

His lip quirked up. “I did.”

“I wasn’t...I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time,” she explained, then raised her head to look at him. “So much had happened, there were so many things up in the air…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“If you wanted to ask again, I think you’d get the answer you wanted,” she told him, then bit her lip. 

“I wasn’t planning on asking you to move in with me again.”

“Oh.” Her face fell and he felt her deflate, sagging against his body a little. They stopped swaying but still she stayed in his arms, close to him, where she belonged. 

His heart pounded harder than it ever had before, making his entire body feel like it was thrumming with nervous energy. 

“I thought that maybe -” she started. 

“I was going to ask you to marry me, instead,” he interrupted. 

His heart quit pounding - it quit beating altogether, he believed - while he waited for what he’d said to sink in. She went very still in his arms and raised her head, turning her wide eyes up at him. Her expression was unreadable; he held his breath and prayed fervently that he hadn’t just fucked everything up. 

“You’re…” She hesitated, swallowing huge. “ _Are_ you asking me to marry you?”

Something rushed through him at the sound of her hopeful tone - he rather thought it was relief. “Oh, sweetheart, I’ll beg if you want me to.”

He didn’t have a chance to say anything else, her arms were around his neck and her lips were on his and his heart started beating again, a wild, joyful rhythm. He kissed her for a moment, then pulled away, looking into her smiling eyes, needing to be _absolutely sure_...

“So does that mean…?”

“ _Yes,_ you daft thing! _Yes!_ ”

He let out a shout of laughter, then picked her up and spun her around one time before setting her down and kissing her hard, with all the love he felt for her. He knew that this kiss, this first time he kissed his fiancee, was a precious thing. The slide of her lips, the way her hair felt slipping through his fingers, the wetness of the tears on her cheeks against his own cheeks - he’d remember all of it for the rest of his life. 

His life that would now be spent with Rose.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~*~*~ _The Smut Fairy appears, looks around, then unscrews the top of her Sparkly Smut Dust sprinkler and just dumps it on the middle of the chapter._ ~*~*~

His mobile was going off again, the vibration against the bedside table making a buzzing sound. Ian wasn’t asleep, hadn’t been for nearly an hour, but he wasn’t inclined to roll over and answer the phone either. He was comfortable with Rose curled in front of him, sleeping soundly, and he didn’t feel like disturbing her in favor of whoever was calling - especially if it was who he suspected. 

The mobile went silent and Ian relaxed around Rose, tracing the backs of her fingers with his, wondering what kind of engagement ring she might like. He wasn’t quite sure of the protocol or etiquette here. He’d asked, she’d said yes. They were engaged and would be married - he hoped soon, and he let himself have a moment of thrill over that thought. But he’d done it backwards, and he hadn’t had a ring when he asked. Should he go shopping right now and buy one, bring it back and propose again? Or should he wake her up in a little while, take her into town, find a jeweler and pick one out together? He didn’t know any of the jewelers here, though. He figured that, in that case, it would probably make the most sense for him to go out when he got back to London. But it occurred to him that he didn’t know any jewelers in London, either. He’d never had need for one. 

Well, that was fucking rubbish. 

The mobile rang again and he rolled his eyes before carefully detangling himself from Rose and rolling to grab it. As he’d suspected, it was Alistair. He sat up and cracked his neck before he answered. 

“What the fuck do you want?” he snapped, but quietly, and he looked over his shoulder at Rose to make sure he hadn’t disturbed her. She stirred a little, but didn’t seem to wake. 

“That’s nice, Docherty,” Alistair replied, droll. “Terribly polite of you.”

“I’m not that fussed with being fucking polite to you, Alistair.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because I don’t want to wake Rose.”

“Ah,” Alistair said, and he could almost see the stuffy man turning red. “Well, we need you to come in.”

Ian scoffed into the phone, propping it on his shoulder while he pulled on his pyjama bottoms. “And you can just fuck right off, too.”

“No, really.”

“You don’t dictate my days anymore, Alistair,” he said, getting to his feet. “Not that you ever really did.”

“We need you to come back, Ian,” Alistair repeated.

“Oh, what the fuck for?” he snapped. 

Rose stirred on the bed behind him, and he turned to look at her. “Be nice, Ian,” she muttered, just before she drifted back to sleep. Alistair was prattling uselessly in his ear, but Ian still grinned and bent to kiss her temple, then stroked her hair back with his free hand. Satisfied that she was comfortable and sleeping peacefully, he crept out of the bedroom and into the sumptuous lounge, pulling the door nearly closed behind him, all while Alistair nattered on. 

“Sorry,” he interrupted. “I was fucking ignoring you. But while I have your attention, do you know of any good jewelers?”

“Jewelers?”

“Yeah. Seems I’m in the market for an engagement ring. Who’d’ve fucking thunk it, eh?”

“You’re proposing to her?!”

“ _Proposed_ ,” he corrected Alistair, stressing the ‘d’ sound. “As in, it already happened. She said yes, by the way.” The man on the other end of the line sputtered, and Ian went on. “I don’t know of any jewelers, though. I could look up a local, but neither of us speak any Italian.”

“You’re in _Italy_?”

“Oh, didn’t I tell you that? It’s the damndest thing. See, I asked this ladder-climbing whore that’s been manipulating me to come away on holiday with me. Now, see, most people would think that a bint like that who’s only playing the game would take one look at me - old, bad-tempered, unemployed with no prospects on the horizon - and laugh herself fucking stupid.”

“Docherty…” Alistair started, but Ian wasn’t interested in hearing it.

“No way would a woman like that come with me, right? But this woman...well, she’s lying asleep in the next room. Took a chance on me anyway. No idea why she would do such a thing. Must be love or some shit, I don’t know.”

“Ian -”

He could feel himself getting angry, and closed his eyes against the rage, even while he prepared himself for what he needed to say. 

“To clarify for you, in case you fucking missed it, this is not some sort of fucking fling. We’re as serious as it gets; I intend to marry Rose as soon as she’ll let me. She _never_ had any fucking designs on advancing her career through our relationship. In fact, she grows quite fucking offended at the mention of such a thing. And so do I.” He gritted his teeth. “She clawed her way out of poverty with her bare fucking hands, worked herself to the bone to get to where she is, and she’s fucking proud of having done so. Whatever mental image you have of Rose Tyler is fucking _wrong_.”

Alistair cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. Sarah Jane pointed out that we may have been a bit hasty, and I may have been a bit rude.”

“You mean when you implied that she was a manipulative slut and I was too stupid to see her for what she was?”

“Something like that.” Ian opened his mouth to speak, but Alistair cut him off. “We need you to come in, Ian. You and the girl.”

“That _girl_ ,” Ian snarled through gritted teeth, “is about to be my _wife_. I suggest you treat her with some fucking respect.”

“Right, yes,” Alistair sputtered a bit. “The fact remains, we’d like for you and - Ms. Tyler to come in.”

“What for?”

“To discuss the future.”

“I walked out, mate. Said ‘fuckity bye’ and everything. You put Rose on fucking administrative leave pending what we all know will be termination. What fucking future?”

“If you two are going to leave, there is work to be done. But -” Alistair emphasized the transition, “if you’re going to stay, there are things that must be discussed and decided.”

“Such as?”

“This can’t interfere with work, Ian.”

“It _wasn’t_.”

“It was if you refused to bollock her when she was deserving.”

“I’d refuse again. I still refuse. I’ll never speak to her that way, understand? And if that’s what you’re after from me, you can pound a fucking sand dune up your arse with a pickaxe, how about that?”

“Ian - “

“No. That subject is fucking closed, never to be reopened. Next topic: You’re making it sound like it’s our decision to come back or not.”

“It is.”

Ian grinned. _Perfect_.

“You want us back?”

“We want you back. I’ve never had any real dealings with Ms. Tyler besides the other day, but Sarah Jane insists that she is an asset that we can’t do without. So yes. We want you both back.”

“I’m not sure we want to come back. I’ve no real desire to, especially after the way you fucking talked about Rose.”

“That was wrong of me, and I intend to apologize.”

“Good.” He waited a couple of beats, then went on. “If we come back - and I haven’t spoken with Rose yet, so I don’t know what she’ll think - but _if_ we do, Clara comes with me.”

“We wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“And you’ll be raising her salary twenty percent.”

“Twenty percent! That’s insane!”

“She’s worth it and more. Take it or leave it.”

“Fifteen percent.”

“Done.” Ian smirked. _Perfect_. Clara had walked out of the firm beside him with no guarantee of a job - and she hadn’t blinked. He could do this for her, at least.

“We’ll want to have a meeting with you and - uh, Rose, to apologize, clear the air. Fill in the blanks of what we know.”

“You don’t need to know shit about our relationship.”

“We still need to apologize. Well, I do. I overreacted.”

“Too fucking right you did.”

“I do hope you’ll come back long enough for that meeting.”

Ian’s mind raced for just a second. “We walk in as a group and we walk out as a group. I’ll not be called onto the fucking carpet, nor will I let Rose be.”

“That’s fine,” Alistair agreed. “When can we expect you?”

“Well,” Ian started, and glanced over at the doorway to the bedroom for just a second before looking back with wide eyes. Rose stood there watching him, the light filtering in from the window over the vineyard illuminating her, making her glow. She was wrapped in the bedsheet, and he knew without a doubt that she had nothing on underneath it. 

“Docherty?”

The voice in his ear startled him out of his thoughts and he nearly dropped the phone.

“Yeah,” he answered, still staring at Rose. “Yeah. I’m here. We’re, uh…” Rose bit her lip and he had to physically shake his head to remember what he was supposed to be doing. “We’re paid up through Wednesday, so it’ll probably be Thursday or Friday.” Rose started across the room towards him, her bare feet peeking out from the bottom of the sheet. Ian swallowed hard. “I’ll have to check with Rose.”

“You do that,” Alistair grumbled, but Ian barely noticed. The swells of the tops of her breasts were visible above where she was gripping the sheet to keep it closed, and her sparkling brown eyes underneath sleep-and-sex tousled blonde hair were absolutely intoxicating. She got closer to him and her free hand reached out to smooth over the bare skin of his chest. 

“Ian,” she whispered, and he was already hardening.

He spoke into the phone, his eyes still glued to Rose. “Yeah, sorry mate, hate to fucking cut you off, but I have to go.”

“We’re discussing -”

“No, sorry, I have to go shag my fiancee right now. _Right_ now.”

“Docherty!”

“I’ll ring you later.”

He pressed the button to end the call and tossed the phone haphazardly onto the nearby sofa and Rose smirked. “That’s not going to help him believe you can separate work from personal.”

Ian ignored her. Couldn’t think of anything other than her, really. “Did I wake you?” he asked, determined not to drag her back to the bedroom and shag her fucking rotten, like some sort of beast. At least, not yet. 

“I heard you talking,” she cooed, and he wasn’t sure if she was answering him or starting another conversation. Before he could ask, she said, “Do we need to have a conversation?”

“Yes,” he nodded, reaching for her, sliding his hands up her sides, grazing his thumb over her nipple, hidden by the silky material of the sheet. “But later.”

He expected her to argue, but she didn’t. She just gave him a coy grin and swirled two of her fingers in a gentle circle on his chest. 

“Know what I heard?” she purred. He shook his head even as he mentally reviewed the conversation, wondering what she could be referring to. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, demure and fucking sexy as hell, and he vowed that if she didn’t come to the point soon, he _was_ going to drag her off and shag her. 

“I said a lot…”

“I heard you say that I’m gonna be your wife,” she said, grinning.

“You like that?” He let his hands slide down her back, then back up to her shoulders. 

Rose bit her lip and nodded. “I do.”

His eyes twinkled at her little joke, and he ran his hand from her left shoulder down her arm until he had her hand in his. He kissed her bare third finger. “I’m going to put a ring here, Rose Tyler. Whatever kind of ring you want, as big as you ever dreamed of. I’m going to put it right here,” he rubbed the little patch of skin that would be covered by a ring with his thumb. “And then later, I’m going to slide a little gold band beside it. When I do, when that band goes on your finger, you’ll be my wife. And I’ll be your husband.”

She was beaming, her eyes sparkling. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, then lowered his head to kiss her, even as he threaded the fingers of her left hand through his. Ian let his free hand roam her until it cupped the back of her head. He kissed her slowly, doing his best to communicate his love and adoration, to show her just how pure his love for her was. But she was standing in front of him wearing only a sheet and goddammit, he was just a man. His cock hardened further, making itself ready for her. 

“Rose?” he asked when he broke the kiss, but before she had a chance to answer, he’d lost the thread of his thought and claimed her mouth again. His lips and tongue were more insistent this time, his assault on her senses more sensual. He let go of the hand he was holding and let his palm glide over her bum, circling around and rising to her breasts. Her newly-released hand came to rest on his chest, sliding down to his abdomen and - 

Ian gasped when she slid her hand down into his pyjama bottoms and wrapped around his cock. “Rose…” he choked out as she started to pump.

Her voice was all sweetness and innocence. “Yes?”

“Where?” he managed to get out, hoping she’d understand.

“Sit,” she commanded, nodding her head towards the chair behind him. Ian took two steps backwards toward it, Rose sliding her hand up and down his rock-hard cock the whole way, until the backs of his knees bumped against the seat. Once he was there, he obeyed the direction and sat, trying not to whimper when she let go of him. 

Any complaint he may have had died on his lips when Rose let go of the sheet. It slid down her body, fluttering to the ground, but he barely noticed it. She stood before him; naked, perfect, and all his, and his hands reached out to touch her, unable to resist the temptation. He grabbed her by the hips, her perfect hips, and he pulled her closer until she was standing between his legs, threading her fingers through his hair while she smiled down at him. Unable to stand it, he leaned forward, planting open-mouth kisses on her lower abdomen, flexing his fingers and mindlessly massaging her hips. 

“Take off the pyjamas.”

The words didn’t make sense to him at first, but it finally sunk in and he scrambled to bare himself. His cock bobbed free but he’d barely gotten them past his knees when he heard, “that’s enough.” He looked up and saw that she’d shifted positions - now she was straddling his legs. She pushed on his shoulder, leaning him back, and he was powerless to do anything other than what she commanded. He didn’t want to do anything else. She owned him, body and soul, and he lived to please her. 

He stared with wide eyes when she climbed onto the chair with him, putting her knees by his hips, sliding them back, centering herself over him. Rose’s hands were still on his shoulders as she settled in, and Ian rested his hands lightly on her waist, ready for her command. She rolled her hips a couple of times, her slick heat wetting his eager cock, and he hissed a breath through his teeth. 

“That good?” she smiled down at him. 

“Want to be inside you,” he said. “Please…”

She raised up and took him in hand, settling him at her entrance, then sliding down slowly. Ian closed his eyes and groaned at the sensation of her surrounding him, gripping him tight. 

Her hips began rotating in a slow circle, a motion she knew drove him fucking mad. To stop himself pleading, trying to salvage any pride he had left, he leaned up and took one breast into his mouth, wrapping his arm around her waist to stabilize her. He used his free hand to squeeze and massage the neglected breast with the firm pressure she liked, pulling at her nipple, rolling and pinching it. Rose made mewling sounds and sped up the rotation of her hips, moving up and down a little now. 

Ian did his best not to concentrate on his cock and the sensation of her fucking him gently, wanting to make it last for both of them. Instead, he laved and sucked the nipple between his teeth, loving the way Rose clutched at his head with either gentle but firm slides of her hand or near-frantic grips depending on what he was doing. She started bouncing on him, sliding his cock in and out, and he took a minute to bring himself under control before he switched breasts. 

“Ian,” Rose whined and pulled his hair. He let her nipple go with a pop and looked up at her. She attacked his mouth, kissing him wildly, and Ian smirked into the kiss. She was losing control, but he wasn’t even close yet. Fantastic. 

She rode him harder and faster, making little whimpering sounds every time she took him in as deep as she could. He ramped up the carnality of the kiss, knowing from experience that the more carnal the kiss, the more wanton she became. He put his hands on her hips to guide her, helping her up and down, basking in the feel. Rose started to babble, pleas and praise and words of love, and it was his cue. Releasing her hip, he slid his hand between them. 

Rose cried out inarticulately and her rhythm faltered, but his didn’t. Within a few seconds she was riding him frantically while he was rubbing tight little circles on her clit in time to her motions. 

“Close, Ian, I’m close, you gotta come -”

He ignored that last. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

She exploded when he took her nipple back into his mouth, fisting his short hair and clenching her heat around his cock. He let go of her breast and bit his lip just to make sure he wouldn’t come, then kicked his pyjamas off his ankles, pushed off the back of the chair while she was still spasming, getting to his feet. 

Rose was limp on him, nearly dead weight, shuddering with aftershocks, but he wasn’t done with her yet. He carried her the few steps across the lounge to the bedroom, taking her to the bed and tossing her on it crossways, then he crawled onto the bed and overtop her. 

“Ian, I’m still - “

He covered her mouth with his and pushed his cock into her with one quick thrust. She broke the kiss and cried out loud enough that Ian was momentarily concerned about someone checking on them, then her walls twitched around him and he didn’t care. 

He began to pump, finding his stride, long, smooth strokes designed for both of them to enjoy. 

“Ian…” she sobbed. “Please…”

“Please what?”

She didn’t say anything beyond the little impact noises she was making for a minute, then whimpered, “Please fuck me, Ian.”

“What do you think we’ve been doing? Playing cards?” Smug, he sped up, pounding his cock into her as asked. The fluttering and clenching of her walls, the way she was babbling his name, the way she had her arms and legs wrapped around him with her fingernails digging angry furrows into his back...all combined to push him closer and closer to the edge where bliss waited. 

He didn’t know how close she was or wasn’t, but he suspected she wasn’t as close as he was. “Rose,” he panted. “I’m gonna come.”

“I love you,” she babbled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he couldn’t help but grin. “Are you close?”

“Please come. Please, Ian, come, please.”

He was nearing the point of no return, then suddenly he was there. He slammed into her as deep, hard and fast as his body would allow while she begged and squealed for more below him - and then she screamed his name. Her walls clamped down on him, increasing the friction on his cock tenfold, and he came in another couple of strokes, calling her name brokenly. Rose bucked beneath him, causing him to slide in and out even though he’d stopped thrusting, and he watched stars form and explode behind his eyes, entire galaxies. It felt as if someone had lit a match to every single nerve ending in his body, and he was incapable of doing anything but focusing on how he felt - how this woman made him feel. Everything else was white noise. 

When he was able to string a coherent thought together again, he realized he was lying on top of her, gasping for air, both of them shuddering and shivering. After a short time, the two of them recovered enough to be vaguely functional. They separated and by mutual unspoken agreement, moved so that they were lying properly in bed, Ian grabbing the duvet on the way. Once there, he collapsed onto his back and Rose collapsed beside him in his arms. They lay together, the only sounds in the room their harsh breathing returning to normal.

“Wow,” Rose panted, then let out a breathy laugh. 

Ian matched her. “Yeah. Wow.”

She rolled to face him, and he turned to accommodate and face her. She looked up at him admiringly. “You really are exceptionally good at that.”

He couldn’t help the beaming grin and surge of male pride those words brought about, so he just kissed the tip of her nose. “I have a stellar partner. Makes all the difference.”

The smile she gave him would power a small city, but it faded more quickly than he liked. 

“Sweetheart? What is it?”

“You said ‘partner’. Reminded me that we still need to talk.”

“It can wait.”

“Ian -”

“Really, Rose, it can wait. There’s no rush. We don’t have to come to any kind of a decision until Thursday, at the earliest. It’s only Monday.”

They lay quietly for a while, but Ian had a feeling it wouldn’t last long. He laid in the glow of their lovemaking while it lasted. His fingertips dragged up and down her bare arm, appreciating the smooth skin.

“Ian?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Alistair said some pretty terrible things about me, didn’t he?”

He dreaded this next conversation, but knew it had to happen. His mind, so accustomed to coming up with easy answers to hard questions, faltered a bit. There was a lot riding on the answer he gave, and he knew it. The way he constructed the next few sentences would determine the future of their careers, and thus shape their worlds. She would likely decide whether to go or stay based on what he said. He could soften the situation and the things Alistair had said, but he couldn’t lie. Not to Rose. 

“He implied that you were only with me to advance your career.”

Rose didn’t say anything for a minute, then he felt a tear hit his chest. He raised his head, alarmed. “Sweetheart?”

“I knew that people would think that. I knew that they would never understand that I’m in love with you.”

Ian wiped her tears away, then brushed her hair back from her face, looking into her cinnamon-colored eyes. She was right; it was the conclusion that many people would come to when they heard the bare facts of the situation, now that there were no more secrets. Rose would be viewed just as she’d feared, and he’d be considered either lucky or stupid. Perhaps both. Hell, if he were being honest, he _was_ both.

But Rose was _not_ what Alistair had accused her of being. And Ian, for all his brains, couldn’t think of any way to dissuade people of that notion. Not fully. Being engaged and getting married would help a bit, but only so much. 

He kissed the tip of her nose, giving her a hint of a smile. “They’ll all see, Rose. It’s just going to take time. Alistair didn’t mean what he said about you,” he defended, not entirely sure why he was doing so. “He was poking me, trying to find my weak spots. You are always my weak spot, by the way,” he said, and she grinned a little. He was happy to see it. “When people see you wearing an engagement ring, when we get married, they’ll understand that they’re wrong. But Rose,” he tipped her chin up towards him, encouraging her to look at him. “I’ve never seen anyone as universally beloved as you. Everyone in that firm who has ever had any dealings with you thinks the world of you. I think this will all be alright. A storm that will blow over. But no matter what, you and I will be fine. Better than fine.”

“Promise?”

“I fucking swear.”

She smiled a little and nuzzled into his chest. He held her in a loose grip, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, hoping they were done talking about it for now.

They weren’t. 

“They want us back?”

“Yeah,” Ian said, fully aware that he was still talking about it despite not wanting to.

She screwed up her face a little, like she was thinking of something unpleasant. “Do they really want _us_? Or just you and I’m part of the package.”

“Rose - “

“Because I’m fine to get another job. I’m sure I can. Someone will hire me, and it’ll all be fine.”

“You don’t _need_ another job, sweetheart. The one you had is still waiting for you.”

“They won’t -?”

“Sarah Jane told Alistair that you were invaluable to the firm. He wasn’t just calling for me. He wanted to talk to both of us.” Ian gave her a lascivious look. “Little did he know and lucky for him, we’re nearly always together. Saved him a phone call.”

Rose smiled, and it seemed delicate somehow. Disbelieving. He lowered his head to place a kiss on her lips, seeking to bolster her. “You’re a fantastic solicitor, Rose. Sarah Jane only takes the best of the best, and you’ve managed to impress her. I’m very proud of you, sweetheart.”

Her smile was less fragile now, and he couldn’t help but kiss it. “I love you,” he told her impulsively.

“I love you, too.” She snuggled back down into his arms, and went quiet for a few minutes. Ian thought, he _hoped_ that maybe he’d been granted a reprieve. He was wrong. 

“So what do you want to do?”

Ian ran his free hand down to her bare hip, then back up to run circles on the smooth skin of her back. “You know I didn’t want to talk about this right now, right? Not while we’re naked, having just made love.”

“I know. But please, Ian,” she said, looking up at him with wide, anxious eyes. “Please. This has been weighing on my mind since Thursday. I need to have some kind of idea what’s going on: I feel so unsettled.”

“I told you there was nothing to worry about, sweetheart.”

“I know. But I couldn’t help it. Can’t help it. Please, Ian, let’s get this settled now.”

He sighed, knowing he was beaten. There was nothing he’d been able to deny her so far, and he doubted there ever would be. If it would ease her mind even a little, they could talk now. They had the rest of their lives to lie in bed together and talk. 

“Yes. They want us - _both_ of us - back. I told them that if we decided to come back, we’d be there on Thursday or Friday.”

“What are the stipulations?”

“He didn’t say, and I won’t let there be many. He said it can’t interfere with work, and I told him honestly that it hadn’t been.” She started to say something, but he cut her off. “To be honest, that’s probably the only stipulation I’ll allow.”

Rose nodded - in understanding or agreement, he wasn’t quite sure - and started to doodle a pattern on his bare chest with the pad of her finger. Ian did his best not to let it affect him. 

“Those things that Alistair said to you -”

“I told you, Rose, he didn’t mean it. Don’t let them bother you.”

“I’m not worried about _me_ , I’m more worried about _your_ inability to get past it.”

He was stunned by her perception and thoughtfulness. Getting past the things Alistair had said was going to be hard for him, and he wasn’t sure he could do it. Telling her that the other man hadn’t meant what he said had been as much for him as it was for her. He might have known his Rose would see through to the heart of the matter.

“I’ll be alright, sweetheart. I’m always alright.”

She gave him a disbelieving look, but he smiled down at her, hoping to deflect. She didn’t push it.

“So...are we going back?”

“That’s up to you, sweetheart.”

“Should be up to _both_ of us.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Well, I’m leaving it up to you.”

She was quiet for a minute, and he stroked her back idly, hoping to communicate unwavering support.

“I’d like to go back. I’ll miss it if we don’t, and maybe things really will be okay. After a little while, anyway.”

Ian doubted it, but wasn’t about to voice that suspicion. “Then back we go. Thursday or Friday?”

“Thursday. Let’s go ahead and get it over with.”

He dipped his head to kiss her. “Whatever you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. Guys. Guys. You have to check out this fanart from [Rose--Nebula](http://rose--nebula.deviantart.com/art/Ian-and-Rose-67328128). I'm still all twitterpated about it. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Thank you, Rose--Nebula!!
> 
> Two chapters left, guys, and then an epilogue. And I _might_ be taking some epilogue/missing scene requests... So start thinking! :)


	27. Chapter 27

Ian and Rose landed in London very late Wednesday night, almost Thursday morning, and it _was_ Thursday morning before they were able to go to bed. Rose didn’t even mention going back to her flat, much to his delight. She just came to his and proceeded about her business as if she belonged there. Of course, as far as he was concerned, she _did_ belong there. He’d made up his mind while they were in Italy never to spend another night without her, and he was determined to see that through. He’d sleep where she slept until she moved into his place permanently. But he hoped that wouldn’t take long...he was impatient to have her there, with him. 

They elected to sleep in, then called the office when they woke up Thursday morning. Ian spoke with Sarah Jane to make arrangements for a meeting among the four of them - the three senior partners and Rose. Ian insisted, again, on not giving the impression that he and Rose were being dressed down, like they’d done something wrong. To that end, Alistair and Sarah Jane agreed to meet them at a restaurant near the office. 

Rose was stiff beside him as they walked from the car park to the restaurant, knotting her hands in front of her, then crossing her arms. It broke his heart to see her so anxious. 

“Hey,” he said, leaning down closer to her ear and sliding his arm around her waist. She jumped when he spoke. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“I’m alright,” she told him, putting on a brave smile that somehow hurt more than the anxious look. 

Ian moved around in front of her, putting his hands on her upper arms and bringing her to a stop. He dipped his head to look at her. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s -”

“You don’t let me lie to you, I’m not letting you lie to me.”

She let out a shaky sigh, blinking more than he thought she should have to, then she sighed again and looked back at him. 

“It’s Sarah Jane. She put a lot of faith in me and I let her down.”

“Sweetheart, you didn’t let her down. We haven’t done anything to be ashamed of. We fell in love, that’s all.”

“But we weren’t supposed to.”

“You’re not sorry we did, are you?”

She shook her head. “No! No, of course not.”

The pulled her into a hug, right in the middle of the pavement. “This is going to be easy, Rose. It’s just clearing the air. They couldn’t split us up if they fucking tried, but they’re not going to try to. At most, they might try to move you upstairs and put you under a different partner. I won’t fucking let them.” _Not as long as Adam is nearby._

“I’m bound to have disappointed Sarah Jane.”

“She’s a big girl. She’ll get the fuck over it.”

“What’s she going to say to me? What does she think of me?”

“She thinks you’re fucking brilliant, just as she always has.”

“But Alistair -”

“Isn’t going to say a cross word. He wants us back, both of us, and he’s not going to jeopardize that by being an arse.”

“Ian…”

He leaned back and ducked so that he was looking into her eyes. “They have no authority over me, Rose. I’m their equal, and they know it. They can’t do anything to me, and I won’t fucking let them do anything to you. Alright? You’re safe. I fucking swear.”

Rose nodded and he dipped his head to kiss her, careful not to smudge her makeup. “Better?” he asked, and she nodded with a small, fragile smile. 

“Better,” she agreed.

Ian kissed her again, just because kissing her on the pavement in the middle of the day was a thing he could do now. “C’mon.” He took her hand, twining their fingers, and tugged a bit. “Let’s go get our jobs back.”

He was still holding her hand a block later when they arrived at the restaurant. Ian was speaking with the maitre’d when the door opened behind them, letting Alistair and Sarah Jane in. Rose went stiff beside him again, her hand that lay in his instantly clammy. Glancing up, he noted that Sarah Jane looked to be in much the same state. Alistair looked as he always did: like he had three feet of rebar shoved up his arse. 

Realizing that the ice needed to be broken, Ian let go of Rose’s hand to shake Alistair’s hand, then Sarah Jane’s, kissing her cheek. When he stepped back, Alistair was shaking Rose’s hand - an exchange Ian watched carefully. Sarah Jane surprised him when she gave Rose a smile through pursed lips, then pulled her into a hug. She said something that Ian couldn’t hear, but Rose gave a little laugh. When they drew back from each other, Sarah Jane patted Rose’s cheek and he could have kissed Sarah Jane for setting his precious girl more at ease.

Ian hadn’t realized how tense he was until Rose stepped back over to his side and he was able to put his arm around her waist. The maitre’d caught their attention and offered to lead them to their table. 

The foursome sat and ordered drinks from the waiter, and Ian was somewhat mollified when Alistair apologized to he and Rose right away for the things he’d said. As he might have known, his Rose forgave him at once. Ian did so as well, but begrudgingly and between dirty looks. 

Sarah Jane carried the conversation after the food arrived and the four started to eat, asking interested questions, mostly of Rose and mostly about their travels - none of her questions work-related. Ian did his best to let Rose talk as much as she wanted, determined not to curtail her unless he absolutely had to. 

Alistair had very little to say, and Ian felt his disapproval. Not that he gave a fuck. As long as it didn’t affect Rose, Alistair could think whatever the fuck he wanted. 

Once the plates were cleared, they got down to the business they were all there for, and Ian thought he knew just what was coming. He expected Alistair to give them a stern talking to, but Sarah Jane surprised him. 

“Tell us what happened.”

He reached over under the table and took Rose’s hand. “What do you mean?”

Sarah Jane indicated the two of them. “How did this happen?”

Ian and Rose looked at each other for a moment. Neither had expected this question. He wasn’t inclined to tell too much about their personal life, and nearly cut Rose off when she started. But he’d been right to trust her; she gave just enough beyond what she’d told them the week before to satisfy them without volunteering information they didn’t need. His clever girl.

“Why didn’t you come to us, Ian?” Sarah Jane asked, leaning on the table a bit. “Why didn’t you trust us with this?”

“A hundred fucking reasons,” he scoffed. “Not the least of which is, ‘it’s none of your goddamn business’.”

Rose piped up, laying a soothing hand on his arm. “We were both afraid for our jobs - especially me. Worse than that, if you’d found out before I finished my pupilage, I’d have been ruined.”

“I trusted all of two people with this, and Rose trusted one. It was a stretch to trust anyone besides Clara.”

“Who was the other?” Alistair asked. “Harkness?”

Ian nodded. “It never crossed my fucking mind to tell you. And if it had, I wouldn’t have fucking done so. In fact, if I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t do anything fucking differently.”

Sarah Jane nodded, looking resigned, and Ian almost felt sorry for her. 

“This can’t interfere with work,” Alistair admonished sternly. 

Ian shot him another dirty look. “We’ve already discussed this, Alistair.”

“I know that you and I have, but it hasn’t been discussed with your Ms. Tyler here.”

“It won’t,” Rose promised before Ian could smart off about Alistair’s tone. “We’re both professionals, Mr. Stewart. We know how to conduct ourselves.”

Alistair grunted, but that was that. They decided as a group for Ian and Rose to start back on Friday. Ian wanted to push it out to Monday, personally, but Rose insisted that she had work to get back to and if he were being honest, so did he.

~*~O~*~

Ian and Rose spent much of the rest of the day curled on his couch together, talking. Now that the worst seemed to have passed, both were overwhelmingly relieved to have their relationship out in the open. They could be who they were, what they were, and there was no reason to hide anymore.

Except at work. 

They decided that things needed to stay pretty much as they had been when they were hiding. The occasional covert look was permissible, texts were fine, but other than that, they were to be as aloof as possible while at work. Once they hit the front doors there would be no kissing, no touching, no signs that they were in a relationship at all. He would call her Ms. Tyler and she would call him Mr. Docherty. Ian knew it was the right thing to do; they needed to tread lightly, at least while things were still sensitive. That didn’t make him happier about it, though. He chafed at the idea; he wanted everyone to know without any doubt that she was his. With a wry smile, Rose told him that he’d accomplished _that_ well enough when he’d kissed her and told Adam off.

 _Adam_. Ian simultaneously tensed and relaxed at the name. He should be sufficiently warned off by now, Ian thought, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t rid of the little fucker yet. It worried him, but he was powerless to do anything. He’d done all he could to protect Rose at work, and she’d be with him outside of work. 

The one concession that the two of them made, the one significant change to the way things had been before they were outed, was that they decided to ride to and from work together. Neither of them could see the point of taking two cars if they were both going to the same place, and Ian selfishly wanted Rose as close to him as he could get her as much as possible. Having her ride with him was simply an extra forty-five minutes to an hour that he got to be with her. He’d take it, and gladly. 

So on Friday morning, they got ready for work at his place. Rose took longer to get ready, fussing over her appearance more than usual. Ian recognized her dawdling for the anxiety it was and did his best to be gentle when he told her she needed to hurry the fuck up, that they couldn’t be late, today of all days. 

He held her hand in the car all the way to the car park, not only to touch her but hoping to bolster her, too, and then from the car park to the front of the building. As agreed, they shared a quick kiss just before they reached the doors and dropped each other’s hands. They walked to the lift side-by-side but not touching. When the door opened on the 41st floor, he shot her a quick wink before they went to their respective desks. 

Clara was waiting for him in his office, as were about a hundred files he’d abandoned when he’d walked out the week before. Swearing under his breath, he took off his jacket, rolled up the sleeves and got to work. 

For the most part, he thought, it was a normal day, with a couple of exceptions. When Sarah Jane came by his office to confer about a case she had, the two of them acted as if nothing had happened, and Ian was relieved. Then, just as Sarah Jane was about to leave, she patted Ian on the arm and said, “Take care of Rose, will you?”

“What do you mean, ‘take care of Rose’?” he demanded, brows knit in confusion.

“She’s a sweet girl, Ian. You’re lucky to have her - any man would be.”

Ian snorted. “You don’t have to fucking tell me that.”

“Just...be easy with her. Alright?”

He looked at Sarah Jane for a few seconds, sizing her up and weighing what he was about to say. Discarding snark and going all in, he said, “I’m going to marry her, Sarah Jane, on the date of her choosing. And I promise you, I fucking swear, she’ll never want for anything.”

She patted his arm again. “You see that she doesn’t. And see that I’m invited to the wedding, too!”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of paperwork. When his phone went off beside his elbow at 4:30, it startled him. 

~Marion - _are you working late today?_

He looked at the piles on his desk, noting that he’d gotten through three days’ work in seven hours and feeling a bit chuffed about it. It would probably be best to stay late - he was only about two thirds of the way through after all - but the lure of going home with Rose was too much. 

~Doctor - _I can knock off whenever you’re ready_  
~Marion - _meet me by the lift at 5?_  
~Doctor - _perfect. see you then._

Ian dove back into his work, determined to get as much done in twenty minutes as he could, but Clara interrupted him with a knock on the door. He did his best to curb his irritation. 

“Yeah, Clara?”

“Got a sec?”

_No._

“Yeah. What do you need?”

She closed the door behind her without speaking and came over to her usual seat across from him. Ian tossed his pen down, recognizing that work was probably done for the day now, but kept his glasses on. 

Clara just sat across from him, not saying anything, and he barked, “Well?”

“I need you to listen calmly and rationally to what I’m about to tell you and swear to me that you won’t do anything stupid.”

“This doesn’t fucking bode well,” he groaned. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Can you remain calm?”

If it were a true emergency, she would have just told him outright. He knew that whatever she was going to reveal would be unpleasant, but it seemed important to her that he keep his wits together, so he nodded. 

“Yeah. I can remain calm. Now spit it out.”

“It’s Rose.”

He sat up in his seat. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Clara soothed, her hands up in a placating gesture. “She’s fine. Keep your hair on.”

“Then why -”

“She’s had a...a hard day. People are treating her differently now that they know she’s the boss’ girlfriend. It’s nothing obvious,” Clara explained. “But Rose has noticed. She hasn’t said anything, but I can tell.”

“What are people doing?”

“Ignoring her mostly. A bit of the cold shoulder. It’s not overt, but there’s a definite temperature drop in the bullpen. She’s stuck closer to Amy than usual today.”

“What do I do about it?” he asked, genuinely mystified. 

“There’s nothing you _can_ do. Anything you did would just make it worse.”

He nodded, clenching his teeth. She was right. This wasn’t something he could fix. That didn’t keep him from wanting to try. 

“I just wanted you to know,” Clara said, “so you could be aware in case Rose seems...off.”

“Right,” he agreed. “I’ll be aware of that. Thank you, Clara.”

“My pleasure.”

Glancing at the clock on his phone, he realized that he had just a couple of minutes before he was to meet Rose at the lifts. He shoved what he needed into his briefcase, then threw on his jacket and headed out. 

His relief upon seeing her was powerful, and her smile when she spotted him weakened his knees. If he lived to be a hundred, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the way her smile made him feel. Instinct screamed for him to run to her, to crush her into his arms, but they had to wait. The ride down to the lobby took forever, he thought, while she was standing _right there_ beside him and he couldn’t touch her. Somehow, he made it out of the front doors and onto the pavement before he snatched her hand into his where it belonged. Something inside him uncoiled and relaxed at the feeling of her skin against his, and his heart fluttered in his chest when she gave him a smile that looked as relieved as he felt. 

“Been waiting for this all day,” she said, turning her hand to lace their fingers. 

“Me, too,” he acknowledged, then pulled out his keys to unlock the car. Ian opened the door for her but she didn’t get in right away, turning her face up to his instead, angling for a kiss. It was a kiss he was happy to give, and he smiled when he pulled back from her, thinking that he’d just fallen a little more in love with her in that moment. 

Once inside the car and on the road, Ian kept casting glances over at Rose, looking for some hint of what Clara had warned him about. She might be a bit more subdued, he thought, but she didn’t seem to be in any distress. He was relieved. At any rate, thinking about something else should do her some good. Right?

“Do you have anything to do tomorrow?”

Rose shrugged. “I’ve got my spin class in the morning. I can blow it off again, but I probably shouldn’t since I didn’t go last week and I missed yoga on Wednesday.” She sighed. “I should actually just find another night for spin. Saturday mornings aren’t working out. I’m usually too tired from Friday night to go.”

He smirked at that, knowing exactly what activities were wearing her out on Friday nights and unbelievably smug about them. He glanced over at her and she was looking at him as well, her tongue in the corner of her mouth. 

“What’d you have in mind?” she asked, throwing him off for a second.

“Hmm? Oh. I was thinking we could spend the weekend at yours.”

“At mine?” she sounded confused and when he darted a look at her, she _looked_ confused as well. “Why do you want to spend the weekend at mine?

“I thought we could spend some time packing up your shit, maybe take a few boxes over to mine. Get started moving you in.” She didn’t say anything right away and he felt a flash of panic. “You are still moving in with me, aren’t you?”

Rose grinned at him. “I agreed to marry you. I thought it went without saying that as your wife, I’d live with you.”

 _Wife._ Had there ever been a sweeter word?

She went on. “I just didn’t think you’d want me to move in so soon.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, squeezing the fingers that lay in his. “I was ready to move you in a month and a half ago.”

It was silent for a few moments and he squeezed her hand again, shooting her a couple of questioning looks. “Sweetheart? You alright?”

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, sounding insecure. 

“Sure about what?”

“About moving me in. Marrying me. All of that. I mean, I’ll do my best not to, but just me living there is going to put a huge cramp in your bachelor style.”

He laughed, couldn’t help it. She was so fucking sweet, and so silly. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m sure.”

“But me being there all the time -”

“- Is going to be the best thing that ever happened to me,” he finished for her. “I want you with me, Rose. No, I’ve not lived with someone since uni, and I know there’ll be a learning curve. But I want you there, all the time, sharing your life with me.”

She sniffled and he looked over to see her wiping her eyes. “Sweetheart?”

“You’re perfect,” she said in a wibbly-wobbly voice. “You know that?”

He laughed again. “You know very well that I’m not fucking perfect.”

“You’re perfect for me.” Rose wiped her eyes again and sniffed before taking a deep breath and changing the subject. “So you want to move me into yours this weekend?”

“We won’t be able to do it all in one weekend, but should be able to get a good start.”

“Sounds good to me.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Series Ten Premiere Day!

Rose skipped her spin class, claiming to be worn out, puffing up Ian’s pride significantly. She insisted, though, that she _had_ to go to a later class, saying that she felt the need to work off some of the endless calories they’d consumed in Italy. When Ian offered to drag her off to the bedroom and start working them off right then, she swatted his shoulder, laughing. 

There were a couple of hours until she had to leave for class, though, so the two sat in the floor of her lounge going through DVDs. The films that Ian already had a copy of at his flat went into the box so there wouldn’t be duplicates, the others went into another box that would make the trip across town that night. Rose was teasing him about some of the films he said he already had, but he didn’t mind. She was happy and that was all he ever wanted. Besides, there was no shame in Harry Potter. 

But they were just a couple of blocks away from the shopping district, and Ian had a bit of an ulterior motive. 

“Hey, sweetheart?” he asked, feeling inexplicably nervous. 

She didn’t look up from her sorting. “Yeah?”

“What kind of ring do you want?”

“A wedding ring,” she answered right away, still not looking up.

“That’s a given,” he said, torn between chuckling and rolling his eyes. “I mean what kind of _engagement_ ring?”

“That’s up to you.” She held up a DVD case. “Do you have this one?”

He shook his head, indicating he didn’t, then went back to the topic at hand. “Why is it up to me?”

She finally looked up at him, dropping her hands that held the films. “You’re the one buying it.”

“You’re the one fucking wearing it,” he lobbed back.

“That doesn’t make it my decision.”

“Rose -”

“No, really, Ian. I want to have what you want me to have. It doesn’t matter to me what it looks like, just that it came from you. It could be a pink plastic dinosaur ring from a candy machine for all I care. Or we could skip the engagement ring altogether and I’ll just wear a wedding band. Either of those are fine with me.”

“They’re both unacceptable to me,” he huffed. “I want you to have the best.”

“Ian,” she said, and laid the films down, rising up and ‘walking’ over to him on her knees. He reached for her automatically when she got close and she settled down into his lap, her arms around his shoulders. “I don’t care, Ian. It doesn’t matter to me. An engagement ring is a promise from both of us, a statement that we’re going to spend forever together. It doesn’t matter to me what it looks like, just that it exists. But even if we choose to forego a ring, that’s fine, because I believe you and you believe me.”

“We’re not forgoing an engagement ring,” he grumbled. Then he had a thought. “Why don’t you come with me? You can show me what you like and don’t like, and I can make an informed decision. Yeah?”

She grinned and gave him a quick kiss. “No.”

“Sweetheart,” he complained as she climbed off his lap and went back to her original task. 

“I don’t want to pick out my own ring, Ian, it goes against tradition.”

“So does proposing without one!”

Rose flipped through the stack of DVDs in front of her, unconcerned with his mounting frustration. “You honestly think I care about that?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, I don’t.”

“I fucking do!” he near-shouted. 

“All the more reason to do it traditionally from here on out, don’t you think?”

He scowled at nothing. Maddening. She drove him absolutely mad, right up the fucking wall. And he loved it. 

“Fine,” he grumped. “If you won’t go with me, at least give me some fucking guidance. Big? Little? Traditional? Non-traditional? It’s supposed to be a diamond, yes?”

“How should I know?” she laughed. “I’ve never been engaged. I know less than you do, probably.”

“Doubt it,” he muttered. “Rose, sweetheart, you have to help me here.”

She dropped the boxes in her hands and crawled back over to him, settling on his lap again. “Maybe I should just stay here this time.”

“Maybe so,” he agreed, rubbing her denim-clad thigh. “I don’t want to mess this up, sweetheart.”

“It’ll be perfect.”

“Please, Rose…”

She took pity on him and kissed him. He opened for her when she nibbled his lower lip and the kiss grew steadily hotter. The hand that wasn’t bracing her back slid up to cover her breast, and she made a high-pitched little noise into his mouth when he squeezed it. 

“You want to take a break?” she asked in a low, seductive voice. 

_YesYesYesYesYesYesYes_

“Tell me what you want, and we will,” he growled back. 

She grinned and leaned over, whispering in his ear. Ian’s eyes rolled back in his head and he prayed for strength. 

“That’s not...that’s not what I meant,” he stammered, barely hanging on. Rose started pressing kisses to his neck, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she got to the little hollow behind his ear and he wasn’t in control of the situation anymore. 

“Please, Rose…”

“Something mostly traditional,” she whispered, then nipped his earlobe. “Yellow gold.”

“Big or small?”

She slid her hand down between his legs and cupped him. “Oh it’s pretty damned big, I’d say.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but at that moment she found the little spot behind his ear and rational thought was a thing of the past. 

Two hours later when she’d left him behind and gone to spin class over his protests that she’d had quite the vigorous workout already, he waited until he saw her pull out of the car park, then pulled out his mobile. He unlocked it, pressed a couple of buttons, then waited. 

“Hello?”

“Clara? Need a favor.”

~*~O~*~

Ian was whistling on his way back to work Wednesday afternoon. He couldn’t help it; he felt more at ease than he had since he’d been lying in bed with Rose the morning that Alistair called. His heart was light and full of Rose, there was a pleasant, boxy weight in his pocket and all seemed to be coming up roses in his world.

“You seem happy,” Clara grinned from beside him.

“I am, Clara Oswald. I am happy, indeed.”

“Like what we picked out then, do you?”

He patted the angled lump in his pocket. “I rather like it, yes. But more importantly, Rose is going to love it.” He reached ahead and pulled the door open for Clara, waiting for her to go in, then following. “Thank you for this, by the way.”

“It was my pleasure.” She smiled at him, reaching over to press the call button for the lift. “Couldn’t leave you to your own devices now, could I? You’d have cocked it up for sure.”

Ian gave her a withering look, but he didn’t mean it and she knew it. Instead, he sniffed. “I would have managed just fine on my fucking own, thank you,” he said primly, then softened. “But I did have an easier time of it with you there, so thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” They got onto the lift with a couple of other people and he leaned forward to press the button coordinating the floor. Once the lift started to move, she turned to him. “So when are you planning to give it to her?”

“I don’t know,” he mused. He’d been wondering the same thing for the last couple of days. He wanted it to be meaningful, he wanted the moment to have substance. He wanted it to be something she’d be telling over and over, making her friends fucking sick. He wanted to make her happy. 

He only ever wanted to make her happy. He suspected it would always be that way. 

“Do you need any help with that bit too?” Clara asked, her phone ringing in her pocket. She pulled it out even as she talked. “I’ll be more than happy to - oh, speak of the devil. It’s Rose.”

They both got out of the way of the people who were trying to get off the lift. Ian lost track of Clara for just a minute in the shuffling of bodies, but he found her again quickly and was alarmed to see her face fall and concern etch itself around her eyes.

“What is it?” he demanded.

She ignored him. “Just stay there, Rose. Hang on.”

Ian’s alarm was only growing. “Clara? Where’s Rose?”

She pulled the phone down from her face and dropped in her bag. “She’s at work, at her desk. She’s fine but...Adam is there.”

Ian’s eyes widened for a second, then he bent at the waist and started aggressively pushing the button for the forty-first floor, chanting, ‘Come on, come on, come on…’

The doors slid open after an interminable amount of time, and Ian was in the lobby before they opened fully, Clara right on his heels. He made a beeline for Rose’s desk, hoping that Clara had been wrong, but she hadn’t. The little fucker stood by Rose’s desk with someone that Ian recognized as an associate but didn’t know. They were sneering down at Rose, who sat in her seat looking up at them with flashing eyes - angry to the point of tears, but he saw a little fear there, too. It was that fear which drove him faster. 

He opened his mouth to speak but Adam beat him to it. “Oh, I don’t know, Rob. I’m thinking she’s bound to take great _dick_ tation.” He and the other man laughed while Rose’s face got redder. Her eyes sparkled and even from a distance, he could see that she was on the verge of crying. The idea made him impossibly angrier.

“Is there a fucking problem?” he projected his voice to ask before he even got there, startling both of the young men and Rose. Ian glanced at her, just needing to see her and know that she was okay. She gave a tiny little shake of the head and tilted his attention back to the other two. 

_Don’t make this about me_.

_Too late for that,_ he thought. 

“Mr. Docherty!” Adam declared grandly. “Just perfect. I wanted to ask you something. See, my mate Rob and I have a little debate between us. He doesn’t understand how anyone can get ahead in their law career without hard work and determination. _I_ say that people like Ms. Tyler don’t need hard work or determination. She just needs the ability to lie back and spread ‘em.”

Rob snickered, but nobody acknowledged him. Adam just stood there grinning, proud of what he’d just done, fairly bouncing in his shoes. 

Ian felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, utterly shocked. He tightened his hand and was almost surprised when the handle of his bat wasn’t in it, but knew that was definitely for the best. He counted down from five because, for the first time in his memory, he felt dangerous. Not entirely in control. ‘Anger’ didn’t begin to describe what he was feeling. He’d never known a wrath quite like this. 

Dimly, some part of him noted that Clara was gone. 

Scrambling for some bit of control in the face of the man who had made him so miserable over the last couple of months, Ian clung to professionalism; it was something he’d never really excelled at, but needed desperately now.

“Ms. Tyler,” he began, cognizant of keeping to their rules, his voice low and his hands clenching, “passed her pupilage and earned her PC on her merit.”

Adam scoffed. “Yeah, but you’re the poor bloke she roped in. You have to say that. She’s probably been showing you her ‘merit’ in the copy room the whole time. I mean, look at her!” He reached over and tried to cup her chin: Rose slapped his hand away with a filthy look and Ian ground his teeth. If that fucker tried to touch her again…

He smirked and turned back to Ian. “Mouth like that, bet she could suck-start a Fiat.”

“Pack your shit,” Ian growled over the sound of Rose’s gasp. “You’re done here. Get the fuck out.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” the little fucker crowed. “You don’t get to sack me just because I’m not being nice to your favorite little slag. If you did that, you’d have to sack half this floor, because now everybody knows just what she is.”

Rose was darting glances around the bullpen at the staring faces, hurt etched all over her face and her eyes full of tears. He ached to hold her, ached to soothe her, but he couldn’t. Not now. This situation still needed to be dealt with. 

Ian grinned, a deadly, calculating thing. His voice was low and controlled when he spoke. “It just fucking kills you, doesn’t it, little fucker? The knowledge that a young, beautiful woman preferred me to you is just too much for your tiny little mind to handle, let alone your huge ego. And you wonder why, don’t you?” He advanced a step further down the little aisle, Rose still between them but out of reach. “It bothers you,” he continued. “‘ _What’s he got that I don’t?_ ’ Well,” Ian’s smile was malicious. Dangerous. “The list of things I’ve got that you don’t would take a long fucking time to go over. I’ve got a job. I have an income. I have a dick that doesn’t require tweezers for use and the knowledge of what to do with it.” 

There were a handful of snorting laughs from around him, but Adam’s spineless friend ‘Rob’ had slunk off before Ian could get to him. That was alright. Rob was small fish. Ian took another half step towards the prize. 

“And that’s just the beginning. But there are two things I have that you don’t that are my very favorite in the world, my most treasured things.” His eyes twinkled maliciously. “I’ve got Rose, and I’ve got the ability to throw you out of the fucking building. Go. Pack your shit.” 

“You can’t do that!” Adam protested.

“Actually, he can,” came a calm voice from behind Ian’s left shoulder. He spun around to find Alistair walking up, Clara just behind him. 

“Mr. Docherty and Ms. Tyler’s relationship doesn’t factor into this. You’ve sexually harassed a coworker for months and were insubordinate to a senior partner. Either is enough to terminate you easily. But both?” Alistair sucked air through his teeth and shook his head. “You’re done here.”

“But, sir!”

“You’re really terribly lucky that Mr. Docherty has been handling this situation and not me. I’d have thrown you out months ago.”

“But...but...you owe me!”

Ian laughed, the first spark of genuine amusement he’d felt since the lift. “I don’t owe you shit, mate.”

“Not _you_ , you Scottish prick,” Adam snarled. “I’m talking about _you_ , Mr. Stewart! You owe me!”

Alistair looked confused and annoyed. “My dear boy, I assure you that I don’t.” 

“You _do!_ ” the little fucker insisted. “I gave you those pictures! The ones of them together!”

Ian went very still. Very, very still. Every cell in his body was poised to attack, and it took all of the mental reserves he could muster not to leap forward and hurt the boy. 

“What did you say?” he asked, his voice quiet. 

Adam looked over at him and sneered. “I said, I’m the one that handed over the pictures that got you both sacked. He owes me.”

“You took those pictures?”

“Yeah.”

“You followed Rose to her home and took those photos?”

“I was going to ask her out away from the office. Away from _you_. Had no idea she was such a slag until I got there and saw her with you.”

Thoughts were exploding around inside his brain; he’d been validated, but he was desperately afraid for Rose to be anywhere near this man, and an anger he couldn’t begin to describe pulsed through him. He’d never known rage like this before. Even hearing the little fucker disparage Rose hadn't caused fury like this. His grip on the control of his body was loosening, and he felt himself trembling. 

A small hand lay itself against his chest. “Ian…”

He looked down at Rose... putting herself in front of him, between he and Adam without fear. Her touch was like cool water on a flame, and he was somewhat soothed. Then Ian looked back up at Adam and the rage washed over him again like a wave battering the shore. That little fucker had hurt and scared Rose, and he - 

Her other hand came to rest on his chest and she stepped closer to him. “Please, Ian.”

He looked back down at her, unable to ignore the plea in her voice. Sparkling, silver pools of tears lay in her eyes, and one fell from the corner. He could see the flash of irritation there - she hated to show weakness - but more than anything, her eyes pleaded with his. 

“Take me home, Ian,” she whispered, and the anger that had been spilling over the banks of his tolerance a moment before dropped to manageable levels. Home was the same place for both of them. Their home was together. Home was where Rose was. He’d already beaten the little fucker: he had Rose. 

Absently, he wrapped his arms around Rose’s shoulders in a protective embrace, gathering her close, relaxing just a touch when her arms went around his waist under his jacket. Wildly, he hoped she wouldn’t feel the ring. He didn’t want this moment to tarnish a symbol of joy for them. 

“Leave,” he said in a low, fierce voice. “Turn away from here and leave this building. Never look at her again. If you ever do, I’ll have your arse fucking arrested.”

“Go on, son,” Alistair said. “It’s over. Security is waiting at your desk.”

Ian heard the little fucker protesting the injustice of it all, but all he could focus on was in his arms. Rose was crying softly, and he could tell that she was trying hard to get it under control. The sounds she made were subdued, muffled by his chest. Ian stroked her back idly, trying to decide what to do. 

“Are you alright?” he bowed his head and asked, cradling Rose’s cheek in one hand. She nodded without looking up at him, sniffling, and he could tell she was struggling to bring herself under control. 

Deciding she shouldn’t have to gather herself in front of an audience and throwing the rules they’d made for each other further out of the window - not that he cared - Ian pulled her close and turned towards his office. 

“Ms. Tyler will be staying with me until the little fucker is thoroughly off the property.”

“Docherty -” Alistair started. 

Ian turned around and raised a hand off of Rose’s shoulder to stop him. “She’ll be with me until it’s fucking safe and the man who stalked her is off the premises. Besides, she needs a moment.”

Privately, Ian thought that he may need the moment more than anyone. He needed to feel her, to hold her and know she was okay. 

“It’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” Alistair marveled.

Ian felt a stab of pity for his old friend. He supposed, if he was forced to be fair, that it must be odd to see a transition like this happen almost overnight. The Ian Docherty that Alistair had known for twenty years would never be standing in the bullpen, gently swaying his fiancee. But that Ian Docherty was gone, and it was best that Alistair learned so now. 

“Yeah, well, get used to it,” he said, not without kindness, but firmly. 

He gently walked Rose to his office then opened the door and led her in, following her. Once they cleared the doorway, he pulled her back into his embrace, needing to smell her perfume and feel her heartbeat against his skin. Away from prying eyes, he let himself enjoy her more, and Rose sank into him, her tears flowing and wetting his chest. 

A movement caught his eye and he looked up to see Clara pulling the door closed to give them a little privacy. She gave him a smile just before the door closed, and he gave her a nod. 

Once he heard the door click, he walked Rose over to the sofa, pulling her down onto his lap. 

“It’s all over, sweetheart. It’s all over now.”

“He’s been following us?” she snuffled.

“He was never going to get anywhere near you, Rose. I wouldn’t let him.”

Rose shuddered, and he was sure that eventually he’d get an earful about not letting her know about something like that. For now, he just needed to hold her. Her sniffles quietly subsided until they sat there, wrapped in the comfort of each other's arms, quiet. 

“Alright,” Rose said, moving to get off his lap. “I’m better. Need to get back to work.”

Ian didn’t let her go. “Not yet.”

“Ian…”

“How often does that kind of thing happen, sweetheart?”

“Just the once,” she answered, looking confused. “I told you I’d call if -”

“Adam isn’t the only person being a prick to you, though. Is he?”

She looked caught out and Ian’s heart sank. 

“Nobody’s been like _that_ ,” she said feebly. “That was -” 

“But other people are treating you differently.”

“Well, yeah! I had an affair -”

“We didn’t have an affair!”

“- with a senior partner! You and I know it isn’t an affair, Ian, but that’s what it looks like to everyone else. To the outside world, it looks like we did something wrong.”

“We don’t need this.”

Rose shook her head. “I knew this was coming. From the moment I realized I had a crush on you, I knew that something like this would happen if people found out. Even if we’d never spoken to each other, I’d have been treated differently. It’s the price, and I’m more than willing to pay it.”

“We don’t need this,” Ian repeated. “We could go anywhere else.”

“And it would be the same thing, to a lesser degree, at any other firm. This is just something I’ll have to endure for a while.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“But I _will_ ,” she told him, then put her hand on his cheek. He tilted his head a little, unable to help himself, wanting more of her touch. “It’s okay, Ian. I’m a big girl, and I can weather this storm. You’re more than worth it.”

“We could start our own firm,” he suggested impetuously. “Hang out our own shingle.”

She gave him an indulgent look. “Ian, that’s silly. We have good jobs. It’s just this...unpleasantness right now. It’ll pass.”

“I can’t stand knowing that this is happening to you,” he lamented. “You deserve better.”

“I knew what I was getting into. I knew that by having any kind of relationship with you, I’d be the scarlet woman. It’ll all blow over.”

“How long?”

“Hmm?”

“Til it’s all blown over. How long?”

Rose shrugged. “A few months?”

“So if it’s not better in six months, we bolt.”

Rose gave him a lopsided grin. “What will we do?”

“Hang out our shingle?”

She grinned. “Could do.”

“Might be better if we’re married before we do, though,” he threw out... hoping, praying.

“Docherty and Docherty?” she shot back, and he thought his heart would explode with joy. 

“I like the way you think, Ms. Tyler.”

She giggled and it was catching: joy bubbled out of his chest and into sound. Rose settled back down in his arms and he tucked her head under his chin, stroking her arm and daydreaming. He had a ring. It was in his pocket right now. He could just - _no._ This was not the right moment. But he had time….he had all her moments.

“No matter what, though,” she started with a grin in her voice, “I’m glad you stumbled upon a damsel in distress a few months ago.”

Ian chuckled. “She wasn’t a damsel in distress,” he clarified. “She was just in a spot of a bother.”

Rose giggled, rubbing her hand in a circle on his chest. “Still glad you found her.”

He raised his head and waited til she turned to look at him, then caught her mouth in a toe-curling snog. Once they were both breathless and smiling, he released her. 

“Me too, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'll pardon me for channeling Ian for a moment... how in the actual _fuck_ is this story over? It seems like yesterday I wrote China Rose and RishiDiams said, "You're going to have to continue that, you know." Now here we are, at the end of twenty-eight chapters. If you've stuck around with me for this story, thank you. You mean the absolute _world_ to me. 
> 
> As I mentioned in the comments, there is an epilogue coming, and I am taking epilogue/missing scene prompts. I am _not_ going to be able to write _everyone_ 's, and I make no promises about how quickly or how slowly they'll be posted. I will say that I'm in the throes of writing the next Ian/Rose story - tentatively titled "Books, Coffee and Rock-n-Roll" that will begin posting on May 1 - so that's priority right now. Basically, it's going to be an 'as the muse hits' sort of thing. 
> 
> That said - drop your epilogue/missing scene requests here, and I'll see what I can do! 
> 
> Thank you all SO much!!  
> xoxox - Caed

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [New Vocabulary](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9903569) by [AmeliaPonders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmeliaPonders/pseuds/AmeliaPonders)




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